Charlotte  Mary  Yonge 


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CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 


CHARLOTTE    MARY    YONGlv. 
By  permisi^ion  of  Miss  Biamston,  fro.n  a  photograph  taken  in  Elderfield  Garden,  i8 


Frontispiece. 


CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 


AN   APPRECIATION 


BY 

ETHEL    ROMANES 

AUTHOR  OF 

'  THE  LIFE  OF  G.  J.  ROMANES,'  '  THE  STORY  OF  PORT  ROY^VL, 

'BIBLE  READINGS,'  ETC. 


A.    K.    MOWBKAY    .V   CO.,    TiTD. 
LONDON:   M  GREAT  CASTLE  ST..  OXFORD  CIRCUS,  W. 
OXFORD:  ;i  IIir;H  STREET 

190B 


PREFACE 

This  little  book  is  not  intended  to  rival  or  super- 
sede Miss  Coleridge's  larger  Life. 

\Miat  the  wi-iter  set  out  to  do  was  to  show  that 
Miss  Yonge  was  indeed  a  leader  of  religion,  and 
that  she  had  a  very  great  share  in  that  movement 
wliich  we  know  as  the  Oxford  Movement. 

I  have  therefore  tried  as  much  as  possible  not  to 
repeat  anything  which  is  found  in  Miss  Coleridge's 
Life,  and  have  sought  to  make  the  book  what  I 
have  called  it — '  an  appieciation.' 

My  best  thanks  are  due  to  Miss  Coleridge  and 
Messrs.  Macmillan  for  permission  to  quote  from  the 
Life  and  from  the  works  of  Miss  Yonge ;  to  Messi's. 
Parker  and  tlie  editor  of  Mofheis  in  Council  for  a 
like  pernu'ssion  ;  to  Mrs.  Knight,  Miss  Cazenove, 
Miss  Ireland  IJlnckburne,  and  Miss  Patteson  for 
letters;  to  Miss  Wcndsworth  for  her  delightful 
reminiscences;  and,  finally,  to  Lady  Fiedeiick  Cavcn- 
dl'^li  f'oi-  lici'  intercut  it)-'  cojit  ribution. 


E.  P. 


Iti  AI./KAN, 
llHtl!. 


CONTENTS 

CHAITKK  PAGE 

I.  CHILDHOOD    AND    YOUTH  -                    -                   -                   -  1 

11.  THE    EARLY    BOOKS       -  -                   -                   -                   -  28 

IH.  THE    'monthly    PACKET  '  -                   -                   -                   -  45 

IV.  'the    heir    of    REDCLYFFE  '  -                 -                -                -  63 

V.  'conversations    on     the  catechism'  —  'dynevor 

terrace' A    VISIT    TO    IRELAND    -  -  -  78 

VI.    LIFE    AT    ELDERFIELD — '  THE     YOUNG     STEPMOTHER  ' 

'  THE    TRIAL,'    AND    OTHER    BOOKS  -  -  -  86 

VII.     MR.   KRBLe's    DEATH THE    HISTORICAL    TALES BISHOP 

PATTESON  -  -  -  -  -       103 

Vm.     'THE     PILLARS    OF     THE     HOUSE,'     AND    OTHER     FAMILY 

(  IIRONICLES CHANGES         -  -  -  -        128 

IX.     MISS    WORDSWOUTIl's    VISITS      -  -  -  -1.37 

X.    BOOKS      FOR      (  IIILDREN  RELKilOUS      BOOKS LATER 

YEARS         -  -  -  -  -  -        I()0 

THE    SECRET    OF    MISS    YONOe's    INFLUENCE         -  -       l^G 

Bij  L(uly  Frederick  Cavewlish. 


LIST    OF    ILLUSTRATIONS 

CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE  _  _  _      Frontispiece 

KACIKO    I>A(1E 

HURSLEY    CHURCH  -  -  -  -  -  10 

HURSLEY     VICARAGE  :     THE     FAVOURITE     CORNER     OF     JOHN 

KEBLE  -  -  -  -  -  -31 

CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE        -        -        -        -    38 

HURSLEY  CHURCH  AND  VICARAGE         -        -        -    51 
CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGe's  WRITING-TABLE  AT  ELDERFIELD    63 
OTTERBOURNE  VILLAGE,  WITH  ELDERFIELD  ON  THE  RIGHT     78 
THE  LIBRARY,  ELDERFIELD       -        -        -        -    88 

JOHN  KEBLE,  AFTER  THE  PAINTING  BY  G.  RICHMOND     -   103 
BISHOP  PATTESON        -        -        -       -        -   118 

CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE        -        -        -        -   140 

OTTERBOURNE  CHURCH   -        -        -        -        -152 

CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE  IN  HER  GARDEN  AT  ELDERFIELD  172 
ROOD  SCREEN  IN  OTTERBOURNE  CHURCH  -  -  -180 
REREDOS  IN  THE  LADY  CHAPEL,  WINCHESTER  CATHEDRAL, 

ERECTED  TO  THE  MEMORY  OF  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE  186' 
THE  GRAVE  OF  CHARLOTTE  MARY  VONGE         -        -   194 


CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

CHAPTER  I 

V)^  CHILDHOOD  AND  YOUTH 

(1B23— 1843) 

Charlotte  Mary  Yonge  was  born  on  August  11, 
182:3,  and  died  March  ^,  1901. 

She  was  of  a  good  and  honourable  Devonshire 
family.  Her  father,  William  Yonge,  served  through 
the  Peninsular  War,  and  was  present  at  Waterloo 
— a  great  and  lifelong  joy  to  his  daughter.  He  had 
fallen  in  love  with  a  certain  Miss  Fanny  Bargus, 
but  the  course  of  true  love  by  no  means  ran  smooth, 
and  for  five  years  the  attachment  between  the 
young  people  was  unacknowledged  by  the  stern 
parents.  William  Yonge's  fatlior,  Mr.  Duke  Yonge, 
Vicar  of  Cornwood,  in  Uevonshire,  reasonably 
enougli,  (icmiirrcd  to  his  son,  a  young  man  con- 
siderably under  thirty,  throwing  uj)  his  profes- 
sion, and  Mrs.  Bargus,  unreasonably,  (at  least,  so  it 
seems  to  mcjchjru  jx'ojilc),  would  not  let  lier  oidy 
daughtia-  marry  a  soldier.  At  last,  in  1S2U,  these 
dilhcultics  were  removed.  W'illi.im  Von^^e  resigned 
his  commission,  and  set  t  l<t[  «lo\s  u  on  ;i  t  iny  |)r()|)('rl  y 
at  Otterlxjurnt',  near  Winchester,  which  Mrs.  Bargus 


2  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

had  bought,  and  Avhere  it  was  arranged  that  the 
young  people  should  live  with  her. 

It  must  have  been  a  very  great  sacrifice,  for 
Mr.  Yonge  loved  his  profession  and  Devonshire,  and 
w^as  an  active  and  vigorous  man.  To  us  in  these 
days,  when  it  is  more  the  fashion  to  consider 
children  than  parents,  the  idea  of  an  elderly  woman 
insisting  on  what  seems  likely  to  spoil  a  man's  life 
is  absolutely  monstrous ;  but  Mr.  Yonge  took  it  as 
a  matter  of  course,  and  was  always  a  dutiful  son  to 
his  somewhat  difficult  mother-in-law.  It  is  curious 
to  see  how  strong  Miss  Yonge's  views  always 
were  on  the  subject  of  duties  to  the  old. 

In  Heartsease,  for  instance,  Helen  Fotheringham 
is  allowed  to  spoil  not  only  her  own,  but  also  the 
life  of  her  betrothed  lover,  John  Martindale,  by 
taking  care  of  an  imbecile  grandfather.  Helen 
was  a  very  beautiful  character,  and  possibly  the 
sacrifice  of  not  merely  the  best  years  of  her  own 
and  of  John's  life,  but  of  her  health,  was  necessary. 
What  is  odd  is  that  Miss  Yonge  has  no  doubt  or 
suspicion  that  Helen  could  have  done  anything 
else ;  there  was  no  clash  of  duties.  The  grand- 
mother in  Ilenj'iettas  Wish,  we  are  sure,  is  a  recol- 
lection of  Mrs.  Bargus,  but  we  will  return  to  this 
book  later  on  ;  it  is  such  a  perfect  illustration  of  the 
change  in  ideas  of  the  relations  between  young  and 
old  which  has  come  since  1823. 

The  numerous  cousins ;  the  associations  with  good, 
pious,  cultivated  forefathers  and  contemporaries ; 
the  chivalrous  ideals  among  which  she  was  nur- 
tured ;  the  sweet  English  scenery,  so  quiet  and  sooth- 
ing— the  landscape,  in  fact,  of  the  Christian  Year 


CHILDHOOD  AND  YOUTH  3 

— together  with  the  Devonshire  rocks  and  moors 
and  sea,  all  made  up  influences  which  had  much  to 
do  with  making  Charlotte  what  she  became.  She 
was  a  cliild  of  the  English  Church  ;  she  was  a 
thorough  Englishwoman.  Loyalty  to  Church  and 
Throne,  an  absolute  devotion  to  duty,  a  love  of  what 
was  good  and  beautiful,  a  deep  reverence  for  sacred 
things,  a  certain  reserve  which  resulted  in  an  awk- 
ward shyness — all  these  are  so  truly  English.  It  is 
probable  that  much  which  helped  to  build  up  her 
character  is  passing  away,  or  has  passed  away. 
But  so  long  as  the  Church  which  she  loved  so  much 
and  served  so  well  exists,  so  long  will  good  and  holy 
men  and  women  be  trained  up  to  work,  if  not  on 
the  lines  she  thought  best,  at  least  in  her  spirit  and 
for  the  same  cause,  under  the  same  Captain. 

Through  all  the  years  of  her  long  life  she  did  a 
noble  w<jrk,  and  it  was  nothing  less  than  this  :  she 
showed  in  all  her  books  how  intimately  Creed  and 
Character  are  linked  ;  she  taught  in  every  book  tliat 
there  was  one  thing,  and  one  only,  which  everyone, 
from  the  crowned  monarch  on  his  throne  to  tlie 
lilt  !••  servant-girl  in  her  sciillciy,  liad  to  (  hiuk  about: 
'  What  ought  1  to  do?  What  is  it  Cod  requires  of 
rae  ?'  Miss  Yonge  shrank  from  overmuch  talk  about 
I'eligion  in  her  l)0(jks  and  in  daily  Hfe,  ])ut  in  leality 
she  and  Brother  Lawrence  \ver(!  absoluti'ly  agreed. 
She  lived  ami  iiio\ed  in  tin;  Presence  of  Ciod,  and 
she  made  theb(;nse  of  tliat  living  l^roscnco  a  motive 
power  in  the  lives  of  her  best  peo[)le. 

She  sliowed  how  evei'y  Ai'ticlcj  in  ilie  ('re(Ml  was, 
not  some  Iheologi'-al  dogma  expressed  in  technical 
l.ingiiage,  hilt    was  ;i    li\ing   Inith    which    wmild   act 

1-2 


4  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

on  the  lives  of  those  who  assimilated  it,  and  make 
them  fruitful. 

Charlotte  Yonge  has  been  sneered  at  more  than 
once  for  exalting  the  domestic  virtues,  yet  it  was  she 
who  was  almost  the  first  story-teller  who  dared  to 
Avrite  of  the  Religious  Life  as  a  normal  development. 
It  was  she  who  wrote  the  life  of  our  great  missionary 
Bishop  Patteson,  who  certainly  'left  father  and 
mother  and  all  that  he  had  for  Christ's  sake  and 
the  Gospel.'  It  was  she  who,  in  the  magazine  she 
edited  for  so  long,  set  forth  the  ideals  and  the  lives 
of  the  faithful  in  the  Western  and  Eastern  branches 
of  the  Church. 

But  she  was  absolutely  loyal  to  the  English 
Church,  and  recognized  that  in  this  much-despised 
communion  there  are  possibilities  of  sanctity,  and 
privileges,  and  peace  and  joy  and  access  to  God. 

She  has  influenced  many  people  who  are  now 
themselves  old  ;  she  has  held  up  to  them  an  ideal  of 
goodness  ;  she  has  made  them  know  the  possibilities 
within  their  own  Church  ;  she  does  indeed  deserve  a 
place  among  the  leaders  of  religion  in  the  Church 
of  England. 

Of  course,  as  a  writer  she  has  limitations :  she  is 
not  a  Jane  Austen  or  a  George  Eliot ;  but  in  her 
own  degree  she  has  a  place  among  the  great  ones  of 
literature,  if  it  were  only  for  the  Little  Duke  and  for 
creating  Dr.  May.    But  of  all  this  we  shall  say  more. 

But  no  one  who  cares  for  the  Church,  no  one  who 
really  wishes  to  know  something  of  the  history  of 
that  extraordinary  revival  of  life  and  of  devotion 
in  the  Anglican  Communion,  ought  to  ignore  Char- 
lotte Mary  Yonge,  or  think  of  her  as  a  mere  writer 


CHILDHOOD  AND  YOUTH  5 

of  domestic  tales  which  possess  a  High  Church 
flavour,  and  are  rather  tiresome  and  prohx.  They 
are  much  more  than  this,  and  some  of  them  deserve 
to  be  remembered,  and  probably  will  be  held  in 
affection,  for  many  a  year  to  come. 

Charlotte  Mary  Yonge  was  for  more  than  six 
years  her  parents'  only  child.  Her  brother  was  born 
on  January  81,  1830.  She  has  told  us  a  great  deal 
about  her  childhood,  which  was  a  happy  one, 
although  it  lacked  much  of  what  is  now  considered 
essential  to  a  child's  happiness.  Companions  of  her 
own  age  she  had  not  many,  except  during  the  joyous 
times  of  the  annual  visits  to  Devonshire  to  the 
cousinhood  there. 

She  was  taught  by  father  and  mother,  and  the}^ 
were  undoubtedly  intelligent  and  clever  people, 
much  inclined  to  the  bracing  system  which  the 
Edgeworths  had  introduced,  and  to  overmuch  i-e- 
pression  and  snubbing.  Possibly  a  good  deal  of  her 
awkwardness  and  shyness  might  have  been  over- 
come had  she  lived  among  people  with  real  country 
tastes  and  more  ])ow('i's  of  gratifying  tluMU.  She 
never  seems  to  have  heon  tauglit  tc^  I'ich^  or  drive,  or 
(!nc<juraged  to  do  anything  except  take  moderate 
walks.  But  it  was  the  fashion  of  the  day  that  women 
shoidd  b((  iucapnbhi  of  ])odily  (^xoi'lion. 

At  liouu;  tlu?r(!  wer(^  regular  lessons  ii)  llic  nioi'u- 
ing,  walks  or  play  J)y  herself  in  \]\v.  nflcniooii,  .ind 
nf)t  very  niiifli  more.  As  a  lilllc^  giil  (lu!  t>nly 
flnldirn  ii»;ii-  .il  Imnd  wen^  tlx^Sliipbiys  of  Twyford, 
but,  alas  I  t  licy  did  not  lil<(>  '  pretend  games.' 

It  is  Hiii'ei\'  liei'seir  wlioin  Miss  V'onge  describes  in 
Connlcss    Kiih.       Kale,     that     nu^sl    (h^jightful    and 


6  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

natural  of  little  girls,  who  had  no  control  over  a 
squeaky  voice,  whose  greatest  joy  was  to  play  at  the 
Lady  of  the  Lake,  or  at '  Hermione  descending  to  soft 
music ' ;  Kate,  whose  clothes  tore  of  themselves,  and 
to  whom  dirt  and  brambles  attached  themselves, 
who  Avas  warm-hearted  and  loyal,  and  loved  a  stern 
but  just  rule,  and  was  too  shy  to  do  herself  justice, 
seems  a  description  of  Charlotte. 

Miss  Yonge,  especially  in  her  earlier  books,  was 
fond  of  describing  fathers  and  uncles  who  were 
stern,  upright,  rather  awe-inspiring,  but  withal  the 
most  delightful  of  playfellows  and  the  most  sym- 
pathetic of  friends.  Uncle  Geoffrey  in  Hen7'iettas 
Wish,  Colonel  Umfraville  in  Countess  Kate,  are,  we 
feel  pretty  sure,  suggested  by  Mr.  William  Yonge. 

There  is  also  a  charming  story.  The  Sea  Spleemvort, 
which  first  appeared  in  a  set  of  tales  called  l^he 
Magnet  Stories.  These  volumes  charmed  not  a  few 
little  people  fifty  years  ago.  The  Sea  Spleemvort  is 
surely  a  bit  of  autobiography,  with  the  delightful 
account  of  the  seaside  home  and  numerous  cousins. 

To  her  father  Miss  Yonge  looked  up  with  un- 
questioning love  and  loyalty,  but  he  was  a  rather 
impatient  and  exacting  parent.  He  was  an  exceed- 
ingly handsome  man,  and  Miss  Yonge  speaks  of  his 

'  dark  keen  eyes,  Avith  the  most  wonderful  power 
both  for  sweetness  and  for  sternness  that  I  ever 
knew.  ...  I  loved  their  approval  and  their  look 
of  affection,  and  dreaded  their  displeasure  more 
than  anything  else. 

'  Even  now  (1877),  when  for  twenty-three  years 
they  have  been  closed,  to  think  of  their  beaming 


CHILDHOOD  AND  YOUTH  7 

smile  seems  to  me  to  recall  my  greatest  happiness, 
of  their  warning  glance  my  chief  dread  and 
shame.'* 

The  description  Miss  Yonge  gives  of  her  mother  is 
very  charming,  and  shows  liow  bright  and  intelligent 
a  person  Mrs.  Yonge  must  have  been  ;  her  married 
life  so  much  happier  than  her  childhood.  Her  letters 
are  delightful. 

When  Charlotte  was  five  years  old,  Mrs.  Yonge 
took  her  to  the  Sunday-school  which  had  been  set 
up  by  Mr.  Yonge  in  a  small  cottage  in  1822.  On 
week-days  the  school  was  taught  by  a  Dame,  who 
certainly  did  not  know  much,  but  could  at  any  rate 
teach  reading,  needlework,  and — manners.  Surely 
Chantry  House  and  its  descriptions  of  what  the 
Winslows  found  in  their  parish  was  a  tolerably  exact 
account  of  the  funny  arrangements  the  Yonges  dis- 
covered at  Ottorbourne,  where  a  rather  odd  indi- 
vidual Mr.  Sliuckburgh,  was  curate  to  Archdeacon 
Heathcoto,  who  was  Vicar  of  Hursley,  to  which 
Otterbourne  was  united. 

In  18.31  the  Rev.  William  Henry  Walter  Bigg- 
Wither  came  as  curate.  Ho  remained  there  for 
thirty-seven  years,  and  was  Miss  Yongo's  friend  until 
the  day  of  his  death.  He  was  a  type  of  the  well- 
born, old-fashioned,  devout  Churchman  of  that  day, 
a  \\'incli('st«'r  man,  and  a  Fellow  of  New  College, 
witii  the  coniplefe  classical  <  raining  of  both  ;  and  ho 
also  bfilongerl  to  .m  old  ilanipsliir(!  family.  He  was 
strongly  inlliienced  Wy  Keble  and  Oxford,  but  was 
always  old-fasljione(l  In  practice,  and  liated  innova- 

*    Aiitohioifnifi/ii/,  |i.  .M,  ill  Miss  (dlcriilf^c's  Ufr. 


8  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

tious.  He  is  uot  forgotten  even  now,  and  his  nieces 
(he  was  never  married)  were  some  of  Miss  Yonge's 
dearest  friends. 

It  is  delightful  to  read  of  the  changes  he  intro- 
duced, and  of  the  boys'  school  with  a  master  who 
probably  was  not  up  to  the  '  third  standard.'  Cer- 
tainly for  enthusiastic  Church-people,  who  were  fond 
of  school-teaching,  those  were  happy  days.  They 
could,  if  they  had  the  money  or  could  raise  it,  set  up 
a  school,  and  work  out  all  their  theories  on  the 
children  whom  they  collected,  with  no  Inspector  or 
County  Council  before  their  eyes.  And  it  is  a  rather 
curious  fact  that  it  was  on  schools  that  the  energy 
of  Mrs.  Yonge  and  of  Charlotte  chiefly  concentrated. 
They  never  seem  to  have  visited  the  people  very 
much  or  made  friends  with  them  individually,  and 
to  the  last  days  of  her  life  Charlotte  hardly  ever 
seems  to  have  visited  the  school-children  when  they 
in  their  turn  had  become  fathers  and  mothers.  The 
strict  and,  for  a  young  girl,  wise  rules  of  her  parents, 
which  prohibited  'cottage  visiting,'  were  kept  to  by 
her  when  she  was  a  grown-up  woman,  and  her  shy- 
ness prevented  her  from  expressing  the  affection 
and  interest  which  she  really  felt.  This  was  un- 
doubtedly a  great  pitj^ 

The  chief  events  up  to  1835  seem  to  have  been  a 
visit  to  Oxford  in  1834  in  order  to  see  the  Duke  of 
Wellington  installed  as  Chancellor,  and  the  death 
of  a  favourite  cousin,  James  Yonge,  a  Winchester 
boy  of  eighteen.  There  again  comes  out  the  like- 
ness to  Countess  Kate.  Charlotte  says  of  herself 
how  she  fell  into  disgrace  for  appearing  unfeeling, 
and  how  glad  she  was  to  remember  '  the  cats  must 


CHILDHOOD  AND  YOUTH  9 

be  fed.'  Kate  had  an  impatience  of  grown-up  people 
in  affliction. 

Latin  and  arithmetic  were  added  to  her  studies, 
and  tears  were  often  the  consequence  of  the  lessons 
given  her  before  breakfast  by  her  impatient  father, 
whose  approbation  was,  however,  delightful,  and 
who  bestowed  on  his  little  pupil  a  Avatch  as  a  prize 
during  the  winter  of  1834,  to  her  unbounded  surprise. 
A  French  master  gave  her  lessons  in  his  own  tongue 
and  in  Spanish,  and  Charlotte's  first  beginnings  of 
story-telling  arose.  For  her  French  master  she 
composed  a  story  of  the  adventures  of  a  family 
— Emilie,  Rosalie,  Henriette  and  Pauline  Melville. 
Some  years  afterwards  she  worked  this  up  into  a 
little  book,  which  was  sold  at  a  bazaar  for  Otter- 
bourne  Church,  and  called  Le  Chateau  de  Melville. 

The  Coleridges  became  friends  when  Mr.  John 
Taylor  Coleridge  was  made  a  Judge,  and  brought 
his  girls  to  Winchester  and  Otterbourne  when  he 
went  the  Western  Circuit.  With  both  his  daughters 
Charlotte  made  great  and  lifelong  friendship.  Sir 
John  Taylor  Coleridge,  the  brother-in-law  of  Mr. 
Justice  Patteson,  and  biographer  of  Keble,  was  one 
of  the  best  of  men. 

Mr.  Coleridge,  Mr.  Keble,  Sir  William  Heathcote, 
were  all  friends  at  Oxioi'd,  scholars  with  kindred 
tastes.  No  wonder  Cliuilottc!,  with  her  fatlici-  and 
her  cousin.  Lord  Scaton,  and  some  others,  notably 
Warden  iiarter,  constantly  in  Ikm-  view,  grew  up 
with  a  high  id(\'il  ol"  wliat  nuui  nn'ght  Ix^  and  wer(\ 
She  saw  good  nuMi  in  tl.iily  lilc  men  with  fanlts 
and  quick  tempers,  but  with  nohlc  ideals,  high  prin- 
ciples, and  lives  gui<l<'<l  and    in  led    l»y  a   v(!ry  deep 


10  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

and  practical  piety.  And  in  1835  Dr.  Moberly  came 
to  Winchester,  and  Mr.  Keble  to  Hursley. 

Mr.  Keble  was,  as  Miss  Yonge  says,  the  great 
influence  of  her  life.  With  Mr.  Yonge  he  formed  a 
deep  friendship,  which  Miss  Yonge  says  reminded 
her  of  the  bond  between  Laud  and  Strafford. 

The  views  of  the  early  Tractarians  were  not  in 
an}'  way  alien  to  the  right-minded  Church-people 
of  the  da}'.  That  the  Church  of  England  possessed 
the  Apostolic  Ministry  and  the  power  of  the  Keys, 
and  that  Sacraments  were  indeed  outward  signs 
of  God's  favour  and  grace,  were  simply  neglected 
truths,  which  not  a  few  Church-people  had  always 
held.  There  were  not  a  few  who,  like  the  Mr. 
Bowdler  of  whom  Miss  Coleridge  speaks  in  her 
Life  of  Miss  Yonge,  were  '  High  Churchmen  before 
the  High  Church  movement.'  Alexander  Knox 
is  one  of  the  most  conspicuous  of  these,  and  with 
his  w^ritings  Mr.  Keble  was  well  acquainted. 

It  is  forty  years  since  Mr.  Keble  passed  away,  but 
his  holy  and  blessed  memory  still  lingers  around 
Hursley,  and  bestows  on  the  little  village  and  on 
the  Church  an  atmosphere  which  is  impossible  to 
describe  to  those  w^ho  do  not  love  Keble  and  the 
Christian  Year.  There  is  still  that  peculiar  sense 
of  peace,  of  confidence,  of  hope ;  it  is  still  a  place 
where  one  realizes  the  possibility  of  lives  which 
may  be  in  no  way  outwardly  remarkable,  but  which 
are  blessed  for  evermore. 

It  is  an  essentially  quiet  English  village,  with  the 
traditions  of  Church  and  State  strongly  impressed 
on  it.  The  village  school,  where  the  old  Dame  who 
made  the  children  '  so  good '  taught,  is  still  there. 


•n 


CHILDHOOD  AND  YOUTH  11 

Will  it  really  benefit  anj^one  when  all  that  made 
Hursley  what  it  is  has  been  swept  away '? 

Church-building  had  become  Mr.  Yonge's  passion. 
Otterbourne  village  was  no  longer  near  the  old 
church,  and  he  and  the  clergy  set  to  work  to  build 
the  present  church.  Mr.  Yonge,  his  daughter  tells 
us,  gave  ui)  quite  quietly  his  much-loved  expeditions 
to  Devonshire,  and  both  he  and  his  wife  denied 
themselves  luxuries  in  order  to  have  money  for  the 
church. 

Otterbourne  Church  is  the  result  of  pioneer  work. 
Miss  Yonge  says : 

'  It  is  cross-shaped,  but  with  a  chancel  purposely 
shallow,  because  both  [Mr.  Keble  and  Mr.  Yonge] 
felt  the  impropriety  of  using  it  for  sittings,  and 
choirs  in  the  countiy  were  undreamt  of,  and 
altogether  it  is  an  effort  towards  better  things.'* 

Charlotte  had  begun  to  study  the  Christian  Year, 
and  knew  that  Mr.  Kol)le  was  a  great  man  when  ho 
came  into  her  life,  and  one  can  imagine  the  mingled 
awe  and  ecstasy  which  must  have  filled  the  enthu- 
siastic girl's  heart  when  she  was  allowed  to  become 
his  pui)il  and  1)C  prepaied  l)y  him  for  her  Confirma- 
tion.    I1(U'  own  account  oi"  it  is  delightful. 

She  was  awed  at  first,  but  he  was  so  tender  and 
gentks  witli  her  \h:\\  she  lost  nervousness  and 
becanK!  perfectly  li'ippy.  Indeed,  Mr.  Ke]>le's  in- 
fluence and  «'linr.'icler  wei-e,  it  would  seem  to  us, 
just  what  Cliarlotti!  needed.  'V\\v.  al  inospliere  of 
Iter  lionie  was  bracing  .'ind   latlier  stern,  and  it   li;id 

*    Muxhiijs  ini  lltf  ('hristiint    Yfar. 


12  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

made  her  loj^al  and  upright  and  dutiful ;  but  now 
she  encountered  loyalty  and  uprightness,  and  also 
that  gentleness  and  sympathy  which  we  find  in  the 
real  saints,  those  who  most  truly  reflect  our  Lord. 
We  are  grateful  to  Mr.  Keble  for  many,  many 
reasons,  and  the  part  he  had  in  developing  Charlotte 
Yonge  is  not  the  least  of  these. 

He  taught  her  carefully  the  true  value  and 
meaning  of  Confirmation,  and  took  her  through 
the  Catechism,  dwelling,  she  tells  us,  on  what  was 
a  favourite  thought  of  his  own :  that  the  Jewish 
nation  and  all  its  training,  and  all  that  it  under- 
went, are  types  of  God's  dealings  with  each  Christian 
soul. 

He  also  took  her  through  the  services  of  Holy 
Communion  and  Holy  Baptism  as  they  are  set  forth 
in  the  Prayer  Book.  William  Palmer's  (yrigines 
Liturgicce  had  not  long  been  published,  and  Mr.  Keble 
vised  this  and  himself  translated  from  the  older 
liturgies,  thus  teaching  his  ardent  pupil  the  true 
nature  of  these  Sacraments,  warning  her,  she  says, 
at  the  close  of  the  preparation  against  '  much  talk 
and  discussion  of  Church  doctrines,'  and  against 
'  loving  these  things  for  the  sake  merely  of  their 
beauty  and  poetry.'  Perhaps  if  Mr.  Keble's  ways 
had  been  more  followed,  and  doctrine  and  teaching 
of  the  need  of  holiness  rather  than  ceremonial  had 
been  the  chief  points  of  attention  by  the  leaders  of 
the  Catholic  Movement,  England  miglit  have  been 
more  truly  Catholic  and  Christian  than  she  is  at 
present.  Those  days  before  Newman's  secession 
were  full  of  vigour  and  of  hope,  and  the  true  mean- 
ing of  the  Church  was  grasped  by  many  who  had 


CHILDHOOD  AND  YOUTH  13 

no  outward  helps  at  all.  But,  of  course,  it  had  in 
no  way  reached  the  people,  and  perhaps  the  Move- 
ment needed  something  more  before  it  could  do  so. 
In  fact,  the  people,  the  vast  heathen  population  of 
our  large  towns,  will  never  be  reached  until  Catholics 
and  Evangelical  unite,  and  cease  to  teach  and  to 
preach  what  is,  in  fact,  only  half  the  Gospel.  The 
truths  on  which  either  school  insists  are  all  equally 
valuable,  and  it  is,  perhaps,  the  work  of  this  gener- 
ation to  grasp  this  truth. 

But  no  training  could  better  have  fitted  Miss 
Yonge  for  the  work  she  was  called  to  do.  And  we 
have  dwelt  a  little  on  her  Confirmation  teaching, 
because  we  see  that  out  of  it  grew  much  of  her  later 
work  of  which  we  shall  speak. 

A  little  later  on  she  was  allowed  to  pay  a  visit  to 
the  Keblcs,  and  we  can  imagine  what  the  peaceful, 
cultured  atmosphere  of  the  Vicarage  must  have 
been  to  her.  Mrs.  Keble  was  a  perfect  wife,  full  of 
sympatliy  and  understanding,  very  gentle,  accom- 
pli>licd  in  {he-  (luiet,  ladyfikt;  manner  of  those  days, 
and  gifted  with  everyday  common  sense  and  ability. 
She  liad  very  frail  health,  which  seems  to  us  to 
have  been  extraordinarily  usual  among  the  ladies 
of  the  early  Victorian  age. 

It  was  und()ul)t(!dly  very  good  for  the  (>ager, 
enthusiastic,  and  gifted  girl  to  share  in  the  plea- 
sures and  interests  of  Hiiisle\'.  Her  home  was  n 
very  hajipy  one,  but  ilic  hii^lling  and  undoubtedly 
nan*f)W  niindfMl  gi-an<linotlu!r  must  every  now  and 
then  have  Ix'cn  a  trial  lo  liei-  nei'ves  and  tcMuper, 
and  Hursley  was  just  the  })lace  to  send  her  hack,  not 


14  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

spoilt  or  inclined  to  think  herself  'misunderstood,' 
but  braced. 

It  is  one  of  Miss  Yongc's  characteristics  that  she 
never  had  undue  sympathy  with  '  misunderstood ' 
children — that  is,  children  who  could  not  '  get  on ' 
with  decently  behaved  parents  and  guardians.  She 
saw  the  difficulties  of  these  children — as,  for  in- 
stance, her  beloved  Countess  Kate,  Elizabeth  in  the 
Stokesley  Secret,  Geraldine  in  Pillars  of  the  House ; 
bvit  she  always  taught  by  inference  that  Christian 
people  must  use  their  circumstances,  not  misuse 
them,  and  that  a  child  who  tried  to  be  loyal  to 
authority  and  who  struggled  against  temper  gained 
more  than  it  lost.  And  here  some  pages  of  her 
article  in  Mothers  in  Council — '  A  Real  Childhood ' 
— may  be  inserted  : 

'  I  should  like  to  give  a  few  pictures  of  real  child- 
hood. Perhaps  if  I  begin  with  my  own  recollec- 
tions, others  may  follow,  and  I  will  try  to  be  per- 
fectly truthful. 

'  Perhaps  there  were  unusual  circumstances  to 
lead  to  the  complete  oneness  l^etwcen  my  mother 
and  myself,  for  we  lived  with  my  grandmother, 
who  for  nearly  twenty  years  took  the  household 
cares.  Moreover,  I  was  an  only  daughter,  an  only 
child  for  six  years,  and  the  object  of  much  more 
attention  and  solicitude  than  I  ever  was  allowed 
to  know. 

'  It  was  an  old-fashioned  upbringing,  with  much 
that  would  shock  sanitarians  now — only  one  nur- 
sery, also  the  maids'  workroom  and  the  nurse's 
sleeping-room  (in  a  press-bed).     However,  I  was 


CHILDHOOD  AND  YOUTH  15 

generally  outside  the  nursery,  though  it  was  a 
home,  and  all  ray  meals  were  taken  downstairs, 
except  supper — milk  and  dry  bread,  "nice  crus- 
tesses,"  as  the  maid  used  to  say  in  a  tone  of  con- 
gratulation. I  have  been  glad  ever  since  of  having 
been  thus  taught  to  enjoy  dry  bread.  The  rule 
was  that  those  who  could  not  eat  dry  bread  were 
not  really  hungry— a  very  good  rule.  Butter,  as  a 
rule,  I  never  had.  I  remember  my  indignation 
when  a  naughty,  good  natured  housemaid,  in  mis- 
placed pity,  brought  slices  with  the  buttered  side 
turned  down  to  escape  the  nurse's  eye.  I  don't 
know  that  the  absence  of  such  nutritious  food  is 
an  example,  but  I  am  sure  the  prevention  of  dainty 
habits  was  an  advantage.  However,  dining  at 
luncheon-time,  the  fat  trouble  never  was  sur- 
mounted, and  certain  joints  recall  it  to  me  still. 
But  greediness  was  treated  as  despicable.  We 
were  rebuked  for  casting  sidelong  glances  to  see 
what  pudding  was  coming,  taught  never  to  meddle 
with  fruit  not  given  to  us,  and  that  gathering 
strawberries  was  pleasure  enough  without  eating 
them  till  th<!  pr()[)er  time.  Sweets  we  never 
bought,  and,  if  given,  were  administered  one  at  a 
time  at  bedtime.  The  denial  was  never  felt  as  a 
hardship,  and  it  has  certainly  been  of  no  small 
benefit  in  health  and  discipline. 

'Ah  to  th(!  maids  sitting  with  the  mirso,  1  <miii 
(Uicidodly  of  <)j>iiii()ii  that  il,  was  un.'ulvisablc.  One 
woman,  though  really  very  good-natured,  used  to 
put  me  in  a  ])assioii  for  the  pleasure  of  seeing  mo 
roll  on  till'  (l(»or.  'I'lic  smi*«^  ^^'"y  was  lo  incilc  (he 
iiurso  to  rei)eat   that  tra;;ir  poem  ol' .lanr  Tayloi'"s 


16  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

on  the  melancholy  adventures  of  Poor  Puss,  which 
tore  my  heart.  I  remember  matters  unsuitable  to 
"  little  pitchers'  "  ears  being  discussed,  and  a  cousin 
of  mine  heard  Pamela  being  read  aloud  after  she 
was  in  her  crib. 

'  The  above  anecdote  shows  that  I  was  not  too 
good  a  child,  though  naughtiness  was  never  tole- 
rated for  a  moment.  I  think  it  was  chiefly  noisi- 
ness, disobedience,  slovenly  carelessness,  and  quick 
temper,  with  a  certain  provoking  levity,  since  I 
have  heard  a  story  (though  beyond  recollection) 
of  having  been  put  in  the  corner,  and  there  begin- 
ning to  sing  in  a  high  squeak : 

'  "  Begone^  dull  care  '" 

'  The  only  flat  falsehood  of  those  early  days  was 
so  seriously  treated  that  it  is  a  pain  to  me  to  re- 
member it  now.  One  other,  some  years  later,  hung 
on  my  conscience  so  heavily  that  I  voluntarily, 
with  many  tears,  confessed  it,  after  what  now 
seems  a  long  time.  Equivocating  was  shown  to  be 
equally  heinous,  the  occasion  of  my  being  so  taught 
being  that  my  father  detected  me  making  a  sort 
of  accompaniment  to  the  responses  in  church 
instead  of  following  the  words.  His  displeasure 
at  my  thus  acting  a  falsehood  was  not  to  be  for- 
gotten. Perfect  truth  and  honour  seem  to  me  to 
have  been  the  strongest  of  all  my  early  impres- 
sions. 

'  My  father,  a  Peninsular  and  Waterloo  soldier, 
was  the  hero  of  heroes  to  both  my  mother  and  me. 
His  approbation  was  throughout  life  my  bliss;  his 
anger,  my  misery  for  the  time,  though  my  elastic. 


CHILDHOOD  AND  YOUTH  17 

frivolous  spirits  so  soon  recovered  that  I  was 
thought  not  to  care.  No  liberty  was  ever  taken 
with  either  parent ;  the  half -saucy,  half -petting 
terms  of  children  to  their  parents  were  never 
dreamt  of.  My  father  could  be  very  stern,  but 
also  very  gentle,  and  he  took  great  pains  with  me. 
The  stories  he  told  me  and  those  first  books  he 
read  to  me  are  still  glorified.  One  needs  no  glory 
of  association,  with  Joseph's  history;  but  Bel  and 
the  Dragon  will  always  be  linked  with  the  scene  in 
the  long  journey  which  he  beguiled  with  it.  Then 
the  Pihjrlnis  Pi-ofjress  he  began  when  I  had  the 
measles,  and  Aladdin s  Lamp  and  the  Perambula- 
tions of  a  Mouse  alway  recall  the  delight  of  hear- 
ing them  from  him.  Such  kindnesses  from  an 
intensely  respected  father  dwell  Avith  one  for  ever. 

'  He  taught  me  to  write,  after  an  idea  of  his  own, 
in  larg<!  letters  in  chalk,  done  without  resting  the 
haiwl,  tliiiiking  this  would  conduce  to  freedom  of 
hand  in  drawing.  He  was  not  always  patient  at 
the  time  with  cliildisli  carelessness,  but  he  was 
most  persevering,  and  most  warmly  fostered  all 
real  attempts  to  do  one's  best. 

'  Daily,  before  breakfast,  ho  read  the  Bible  with 
us,  from  Mant's  edition.  Nor  can  I  remember  a 
time  when  I  did  not  say  piviyers,  rc])oat  the  Cato- 
cliism  «'V('iv  Sunday,  and  go  to  church,  being  taken 
early  that  no  one  might  ha  kept  at  home.  There 
w/is  leaching  of  flic  meaning  of  1  hese  things  and 
of  Script  ure  history,  hut  1  he  niatnials  of  I  hose  days 
were  not  many  nor  very  helpful.  IIow(!V<m',  a  great 
Dut<*li  Scripture;  history,  with  an  inunense  number 
of  prints,  impresHcd  Scripture  events;  and  from 

2 


m  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

seven  years  old  my  mother  took  me  to  the  Sunday- 
school,  first  to  learn,  and  then  to  teach,  when,  how- 
ever, I  was  much  too  young  to  be  put  in  authority. 
I  was  more  a  conscientious  than  a  religious  child. 
Except  a  vehement  pleasure  in  the  Sunday-school 
— which  was  not  so  much  for  religion's  sake  as  for 
the  love  of  teaching — I  felt  these  observances  a 
weariness,  though  I  should  have  been  ashamed  to 
say  so,  and  felt  that  it  was  my  own  fault. 

'It  was  a  strict  Sunday  —  two  services,  two 
Sunday-schools,  books  always  of  a  religious  cast, 
(and  not  too  many  of  them),  hymns  and  Catechism 
in  the  evening ;  but  I  grew  gradually  up  from  the 
sense  of  lengthiness  to  actual  enjoyment,  at  first 
through  the  Sunday-school.  Lax  Sundays  would 
never  have  had  the  same  effect. 

'  Intellectually  the  religious  teaching  interested 
me,  but  my  parents  were  of  the  old  reticent 
school,  reverent  and  practical,  so  as  to  dread  the 
drawing  out  of  feeling  and  expression,  for  fear  of 
unreality,  and  I  do  not  know  of  much  awakening 
in  me  to  religious  warmth,  unless  it  may  be  im- 
pulses of  thankfulness  for  a  beautiful  day,  and  an 
extreme  terror  of  the  Last  Judgment.  Fancying 
it  would  only  come  when  nobody  was  awake,  I 
remember  trying  to  keep  off  sleep  by  pulling  out 
the  hairs  in  my  mattress.  This,  however,  was  only 
like  other  terrors  that  haunted  my  bedtime,  such 
as  wolves  in  the  dark  hall,  gunpowder  plots,  and 
the  fate  of  the  Princes  in  the  Tower.  These  are,  I 
believe,  the  lot  of  all  imaginative  children.  My 
X)arents  were  my  practical  religion  and  conscience. 

'  My  mother  had  read  and  imbibed  the  Edge- 


CHILDHOOD  AND  YOUTH  19 

worth  books.  She  was  perfectly  regular  in  her 
teaching,  and  never  gave  holidays  unless  there  was 
a  needful  occupation,  but  there  were  no  lessons 
after  one  o'clock.  She  had  the  old  London  school 
education,  and  was  very  thorough,  but  she  had  the 
art  of  making  her  teaching  pleasant  with  playful 
observations.  At  four  years  old  I  could  read.  The 
discovery  that  I  was  capable  of  reading  to  myself 
was  too  deliglitful  to  be  forgotten.  It  was  made 
over  a  quarto  illustrated  Jiobinson  Crusoe,  beside 
a  print  of  him  contending  with  the  breakers. 
French  in  children's  stories  was  easy  to  me  at 
seven  or  eight  years  old;  also  the  order  of  Kings 
of  England,  and  their  histories  in  Bishop  Dav3's's 
little  book  ;  nor  do  I  think  there  was  the  slightest 
damage  to  health  or  brains  from  what  people  noAv^ 
call  over-forcing. 

'  It  was  a  happy,  healtliy  childhood,  with  mucli 
joy  in  play,  running  about  boisterously'  in  ui)per 
rooms  and  out  of  doors,  delighting  in  dolls  and 
in  live  creatures,  and  in  all  quiet  games,  having 
the  b(^st  of  playfellows  in  my  mother,  though  licr 
health  would  not  ])ermit  her  to  walk  out  far  with 
me.  She  was  much  afraid  of  my  lieing  vain. 
Once,  on  venturing  to  ask  if  I  was  pretty,  I  was 
answ{!r<!d  that  all  young  animals,  young  i)igs  and 
all,  wove  pretty.  It  would  probably  liavo  hvvu 
wiser  to  tell  mo  her  true  opinion,  for  the  question 
f>f  my  l)f';iuty  was  a  prf)])lem  to  mo  all  my  earlier 
lil'c.  My  linir  in  those;  <lnys  was  of  n  rich  ch<\st- 
nut  colour,  in  wavy  curls;  hul  it  dclighicd  her 
that  I  answered  a  lady  who  .Khuircd  it  (on(  ol" 
Miss  Edgoworth),  "  You  llallci-  mc!" 

2-2 


20  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

'  There  was  hardly  any  conipanionsliip  with 
other  children,  except  in  an  annual  visit  to  a  large 
family  of  cousins,  whose  company  was  perfect 
felicity,  but  who  were  brought  vip  on  the  same 
lines,  perhaps  even  more  plainly  and  strictly. 
These  recollections  reach  to  about  seven  or  eight 
years  old. 

'  The  special  point  experience  Avould  lead  me  to 
remember  is  that  justice  and  strong  displeasure 
at  wrong-doing,  severe  criticism  on  carelessness, 
and  no  weak  indulgence  promoted  the  most  fervent 
love  and  honour  to  my  father,  and  that  my 
mother's  perfect  loyalty  to  all  his  opinions  and 
measvires,  and  her  unfailing  tenderness,  sym- 
pathy, and  i)layf ulness  made  a  life  of  happy  affec- 
tion and  lasting  reverence. 

'  The  Teens. 

'  Looking  back,  it  seems  to  me  that  childhood 
proper  ended  with  me  at  thirteen.  Li  that  year 
we  made  a  visit  to  the  cousins,  which  was  especially 
delightful  in  games  and  expeditions  and  other 
charms,  and  for  five  years  we  did  not  go  again  en 
fcnnille  or  for  a  long  time,  and  I  remember  wonder- 
ing how  it  would  be  when  we  had  passed  the  stage 
of  romping  children  and  had  become  mannerly 
young  people.  I  need  hardly  say  that  we  were  as 
happy  as  ever  and  as  playful,  for  change  and 
death  had  not  yet  begun  to  cast  their  shadows  so 
as  to  be  felt  by  our  joyous  young  spirits.  Even  by 
the  time  I  was  thirteen  I  had  begun  some  of  the 
pursuits  that  have  been  a  solace  to  me  all  my  life 
— those  of  flowers  and  of  shells. 


CHILDHOOD  AND  YOUTH  21 

'  Rousseau's  six  letters  on  botany,  translated  by 
Martyn,  and  vrith  excellent  illustrations,  were  read 
with  my  mother, and  introduced  me  to  the  wonders 
of  a  lily,  a  stock,  and  a  daisy.  A  former  genera- 
tion had  been  botanical,  and  had  subscribed  for 
Curtis's  Flora  Londinensis  and  his  Botanical Macja- 
zine.  The  hand  -  coloured  plates  are  infinitely 
better  than  modern  chromo-lithographs,  though 
we  may  be  very  grateful  for  these.  Though  the 
continuations  ))y  Martyn  and  Priscilla  Wakefield 
had  not  the  touch  of  genius  that  made  Kousseau 
charming,  still,  on  the  Linniean  system,  I  knew 
well  all  our  wood  and  river  flowers  in  a  way  that 
docs  not  seem  to  occur  to  the  girls  who  are  sup- 
posed to  learn  scientifically  botany  in  classes — of 
maidens,  I  moan,  not  plants.  It  is  the  fashion  to 
laugh  at  what  used  to  be  called  a  hortiin  siccus, 
and  ccr'taiiily  the  \)tn)V  plants  do  become  melan- 
choly mummies  ;  but  it  really  oilers  the  oidy  mode 
of  being  sure  of  one's  discoveries,  and,  moreover, 
is  a  mcjst  innocent  means  of  gratify Ing  (he  instinct 
of  collecting  witliout  saci"ilice  of  animal  life,  and 
without  needing  nuich  space  or  biding  liabh^  to  bo 
discardetl  <jn  removals.  Jiotany  gives  spirit  and 
object  to  our  walks,  and  opens  now  fields  of 
interest  in  every  ik^w  ])lace.  It  b.is  been  one  of 
my  gnjatest  pleasnics. 

'So  have  shells.  An  old  gentlem.in  of  ninety, 
noted  /IS  a  naturalist  in  his  day  Dr.  Latliani, 
author  of  a  book  on  ornit  bolog^^  (!xhaiist  ive  in  its 
t  ime  lent  ine  Wood's  ^  'a/dlof/iic  of  S/itlls,  colon  red, 
/md  veiy  expensive,  and  (o  obtain  tin;  same  was 
ono  of  those  ambitions   (ho   acconn»lishment   of 


22  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

which  verified  that  everything  comes  to  one  who 
waits.  Conchology  is  not  a  pursuit  quite  so  desir- 
able as  botany,  for  shells  require  space,  and  are 
inconvenient  in  changes  of  residence.  Besides 
that,  beyond  the  British  species,  the  collecting 
them,  except  under  special  circumstances,  is  ex- 
j)ensive  ;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  their  beauty  is 
imperishable.  My  taste  was  encouraged  because 
it  was  a  sort  of  inheritance  from  my  father's 
favourite  sister,  and  my  shells  were  keepsakes,  or 
old  treasures  from  chimney-pieces,  or  purchases 
with  my  own  pocket-money,  or  brought  home  by 
a  naval  relation,  and  all  have  a  sj)ecial  value  and 
history.  My  parents  shared  the  pursuit  with  me, 
and  fostered  it  by  sympathy,  but  did  not  stifle  it, 
as  people  often  do,  by  overdoing  encouragement. 
Many  of  my  treasures  still  bear  the  labels  my 
mother  wrote  for  them  half  a  century  ago,  before 
my  handwriting  was  neat  enough. 

'  Daily  life  went  on  much  as  when  I  was  younger. 
There  was  early  rising  at  six,  or  soon  after,  to 
work  at  arithmetic  and  Latin  with  my  father, 
going  on  to  Euclid.  We  got  as  far  as  the  first  six 
books,  and  then  went  back  again.  I  had  to  draw 
the  diagrams  with  the  utmost  neatness  and  pre- 
cision, and  then  to  write  out  the  proposition  from 
memory  in  a  book  without  blot  or  erasure,  which 
I  still  possess.  My  father  was  one  of  the  most 
accurate  of  l^eings,  I  one  of  the  most  slovenly,  and 
my  entire  life  and  doings  have  been  a  struggle 
between  my  conscience,  trained  to  accuracy,  and 
my  inclination  to  .slurring  my  work.  How  much 
worse  I  should  have  been  without  the  drilling  I 


CHILDHOOD  AND  YOUTH  23 

went  through  I  cannot  guess ;  but  I  was  never 
disheartened,  his  approbation  was  so  delightful, 
and  such  an  object  to  look  forward  to. 

'  Breakfast,  feeding  of  chickens,  cats,  and  other 
animals,  then  studies — French  or  Italian  exercises, 
Latin  ones  to  prepare,  geograj^hy,  grammar  of 
one  or  other  of  the  languages,  or  else  work  with 
the  French  master,  who  by-and-by  taught  me 
Spanish.  Then  came  historical  reading  in  English 
or  French,  and  drawing,  My  mother  had  been 
taught  by  a  London  master — and  drew  very  well 
in  the  old  style — exact  and  minute  copying  of  line 
engravings,  and  also  of  water-coloured  drawings 
of  figures,  and  this  she  taught  so  that  I  could  draw 
about  as  well  as  she,  perhaps  less  neatly,  but  more 
boldly.  There  were  no  schools  of  art,  no  good 
masters  within  reach,  or  I  think  I  had  talent 
in  that  line  enough  to  have  gone  farther.  My 
fatlier  liad  a  real  love  and  ai)pre('iati(in  of  art, 
delighted  in  line  pictures,  and  accumulated  ex- 
quisite books  of  prints  and  engravings.  These 
were  my  extreme  delight  as  far  back  as  I  can 
remcriibci*,  and  a  visit  to  a  gallery  or  print-shop 
witli  liim  was  a  memorable  [)leasure.  He  took 
great  interest  in  iii>  drawings,  hut  criticized 
every  defective  outline  ami  quizzed  failures.  I 
once  set  to  work  to  copy  tho  likenesses  of  all 
the  "(rue  knights"  to  Ix?  ((jlkM-tcd,  some  of 
wiiom  remain  to  this  day  in  porti'olios.  Montrose, 
olHl>orateIy  c()i»i<'i|  in  ixinil  tiom  Lodge's  portraits, 
but  too  roughly  sjiadcd,  was  nMMiived  willi,  "What! 
has  li(!  bcrti  scraped  with  a  small-tool  lied  comb?" 
Langlitcr  took  out  the  ating,  auil  there  was  always 


24  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

hope  of  approval.  My  mother  and  I  went  through 
many  a  tongli  vohime  while  one  read  and  the 
other  drew  or  worked. 

'The  actual  studies  ended  with  luncheon,  and 
then  came  the  time  spent  out  of  doors.  My 
mother  could  not  take  long  walks,  and  to  go  far 
beyond  the  garden  with  my  father,  or  even  with  a 
maid,  was  always  something  of  a  treat ;  but  there 
were  endless  occupations  out  of  doors,  except 
on  the  damp  days,  when  three  times  round  the 
gravel  walk  which  bounded  what  grandmamma 
called  the  jDremises  was  reckoned  as  equivalent  to 
a  mile,  and  made  my  required  exercise,  enlivened 
by  many  a  fancy.  There  was  not  cottage- visiting, 
save  within  my  mother's  short  tether,  or  when 
sent  under  escort  on  a  definite  message.  I  was  a 
great  chatterbox,  and  my  j)arents  had  seen  evil 
consequences  from  carelessness  about  young 
people's  intercourse,  so  that  all  gossip  and 
familiarity  with  servants,  as  a  rule,  and  poor 
people,  Avas  decidedly  checked.  I  have  often 
\vondered  how  far  this  was  for  the  best. 

'  The  elder  villagers  were  much  less  cultivated 
than  in  these  days,  and  would  jjrobably  have  been 
unconsciously  much  more  coarse,  and  my  tongue 
would  certainly  have  run  away  with  me,  and  have 
been  mischievous  in  every  way ;  yet,  on  the  other 
hand,  the  shyness  of  other  classes  that  was 
engendered  has  never  left  me ;  and  though  I  have 
been  working  for  my  village  neighbours  all  my 
life,  I  have  never  been  able  to  converse  with  them 
with  any  freedom,  nor  so  as  to  establish  mutual 
confidence,  oven  where  there  is  certainly  mutual 


CHILDHOOD  AND  YOUTH  25 

esteem  and  affection,  and  this  has  become  a  serious 
drawback  to  helpfulness,  though  old  use  and 
loyalty  diminishes  the  evil  effect  among  the  native 
inhabitants. 

'  After  the  daily  constitutional,  there  were  divers 
delights  and  pursuits  besides  the  i^leasure  of  read- 
ing the  twenty  pages  of  history  (Goldsmith's  Rome), 
and  then  one  chapter  of  Scott,  and  no  limitation 
to  the  varieties  of  chosen  story-books  or  the  books 
of  travels.  Franklin's  Voyages,  and  an  abridg- 
ment of  Waterton,  with  a  charming  picture  of 
his  ride  on  the  crocodile,  stand  out  in  memory 
among  those.  I  was  also  free  for  Bowdlor's 
Shakespeare  and  Potter's  translations  of  the  Greek 
tragedies. 

'  I  was  early  promoted  to  what  was  then  con- 
sidered as  late  dinner,  at  half-past  five  or  six,  with 
u  long  evening  aftin-wards,  spent  in  reading  aloud, 
needlework,  sometimes  in  games,  chess,  back- 
gammon, or  even  "  twenty  questions,"  which,  be  it 
observed,  is  a  very  useful  diversion  when  ration- 
ally conducted,  so  that  it  is  not  held  fair  to  guess 
too  soon  or  without  real  grounds.  It  is  the  way 
to  learn  common  things,  such  as  Avhat  glass  is  made 
of,  and  th<!  h'kt;,  for  it  causes  the  reflecting  on  what 
things  are  "animal  substances,"  "vegi^tablc  sub- 
stances," or  "  mineral  substances,"  "  compound  or 
simple,"  and  a  j)erson  who  Wiis  used  to  the  exor- 
cise would  n(^\-ci-  maintain  tbat  salt  fish  camo 
ready  salt<'d  out  of  the  sea. 

*  Soiiict  iiiKis  my  Latin  construing  liad  to  l>o 
n'l(!gat('d  to  the,  evening,  l)iit  not  as  a  ruh-,  foi-  it 
made  my  grandmother  unhappy.      1  think  that 


20  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

here  a  story  of  those  days  must  be  pardoned,  as 
illustratiiijjf  both  faults  and  conscientiousness. 

'  Tea  used  to  come  in  at  eight  o'clock,  and  at  the 
critical  moment  of  an  interesting  employment 
grandmamma  bade  me  go  and  call  my  father.  I 
rose  unwillingly,  giving  what  my  mother  called 
my  black  look  and  used  to  say  was  like  Cain.  She 
reproved  mo  sharply,  for  she  had  a  horror  of  any 
disrespect  to  her  mother.  Immediately  after,  on 
going  into  the  dining-room,  my  father  presented 
me  with  two  beautifully  bound  volumes  of  Mrs. 
Jameson's  Female  Character's  of  Shahesj'ycare  as  a 
reward  for  diligence  and  good  conduct. 

'  I  burst  into  tears,  and  sobbed  out  that  I  did  not 
deserve  the  book,  as  I  had  just  been  very  naughty 
to  grandmamma. 

'  He  said  it  should  wait  for  another  time,  and  so 
it  did,  till  I  was  recovering  from  a  feverish  attack 
in  the  winter,  and  was  said  to  have  shown  much 
patience  and  good  humour. 

'  My  faidts  were,  so  far  as  can  be  remembered, 
a  strange  mixture  of  indolent  carelessness  with 
vehement  eagerness,  and  the  temper  which  was 
evoked  by  rebukes,  either  for  omissions  and  im- 
perfect work  and  untidiness,  or  else  for  boisterous- 
ness  and  noisiness,  and  losing  all  self-control  in 
excitement. 

'  A  boy  cousin  declared  that  I  reminded  him  of 
the  description  in  Quenthi  Duncardoi  Charles  the 
Ijold,  whoso  laugh  was  a  diabolical  grimace.  When 
we  met  again  long  after  I  had  learned  to  laugh 
without  making  horrid  faces,  he  apologized  for 
what,  probably,  had  been  a  useful,  if  rather  strong, 


CHILDHOOD  AND  YOUTH  27 

hint.  Such  observations,  if  amusing,  never  hurt 
my  temper.  It  was  not  of  that  kind.  But  reproof 
for  idleness  did  make  me  very  cross  for  a  time, 
and  there  were  also  moods,  connected,  perhaps, 
with  health,  when  nothing  seemed  to  go  right  or 
be  enjoyable.  Nor  does  it  seem  to  me  that  I  was 
vain.  I  never  knew  whether  I  was  good-looking, 
though  I  tried  to  find  out,  and,  having  little  or  no 
rosy  colour,  I  did  not  admire  myself.  As  to  clever- 
ness, I  seriously  wondered  at  one  time  whether  I 
was  an  idiot,  knoAving  that  no  one  would  tell  me 
if  I  was  so,  and  when  one  evening,  something  of 
this  wonderful  notion  having  betrayed  itself,  my 
mother  told  me  that,  on  the  contrary,  if  I  took 
pains,  I  might  be  a  superior  person,  she  said 
afterwards  tliat  elation  and  excitement  made  me 
disagreeal)le  from  high  spirits  all  the  rest  of  the 
evening,  when  someone  was  dining  with  us.' 


CHAPTER  II 

THE   EARLY   BOOKS 

(1843—1850) 

Another  influence  came  into  Charlotte's  life  about 
1843 — that  of  Marianne  Dyson,  the  sister  of  the 
Vicar  of  Dogmorsfield.  Mr.  Keble  used  to  call  Mrs. 
and  Miss  Dyson  tlio  Vicar  of  Dogmersfield's  two 
wives.  Mr.  Dyson  was  himself  a  remarkable  man, 
full  of  cultivated  tastes  and  great  knowledge.  He 
ought,  Sir  John  Coleridge  says  in  his  Life  of  Keble, 
to  have  been  an  ecclesiastical  historian.  He  was  a 
very  great  and  intimate  friend  of  Mr.  Keble.  When 
he  died,  Miss  Keble  said  to  Miss  Yonge  that  she  had 
been  thinking  how  little  change  he  would  need 
'  where  he  is  gone.'  And  it  was  he  who  persuaded 
Keble  to  publish  the  Christian  Year.  Miss  Dyson 
was  a  woman  of  considerable  ability  and  enthusiasm, 
and  became  a  great  friend  of  Charlotte  and  of  Mrs. 
Yonge.  For  it  would  seem  that  there  was  full  sym- 
pathy between  mother  and  daughter,  and  not  a  little 
joyous  and  harmless  pride  by  the  mother  in  her 
gifted  child. 

From  1810  to  1850,  Miss  Yonge  tells  us  in  her  recol- 
lection of  Mr.  Keble,*  the  brightness  and  joyousness 

*  Gleaniufjn  Jrom    Thirtjj    Yearn'   Intercourse  with   the  Rev,  John 
Keble. 

28 


THE  EARLY  BOOKS  29 

of  the  '  forward  movement '  had  a  good  deal  died 
down.  Those  years  were  in  many  ways  most  sad 
and  trying.  The  great  loss  of  18J:5,  and  the  sus- 
picion and  unkindness  with  which  '  Puseyites,'  as 
they  began  to  be  called,  were  treated,  the  growth  of 
unbelief,  the  changes  at  Oxford — all  these  made  the 
years  sad.  These  times  come  to  every  generation 
which  starts  full  of  ho^je  in  some  '  high  emprise.' 
Those  who  work  in  the  mission-field  kno^v  it ;  those 
who  give  themselves  to  any  new  movement  of 
Church  life  at  home  find  it  out — this  sense  of  defeat 
and  disappointment.  We  all  in  our  turn  have  to 
learn  the  lesson  Mr.  Keble  taught  us  in  his  poem 
for  tlic  11th  Sunday  after  Trinity, '  Is  this  a  time  to 
plant  and  build  ?' 

'  Of  the  defeated  party,'  Dean  Church  writes — 
he  is  sjieaking  of  the  time  after  Mr.  Ward's  book, 
The  Ideal  of  a  Christian  (Jhurch,  had  been  con- 
demned— '  those  who  remained  had  much  to  think 
about,  between  grief  at  the  breaking  of  old  ties, 
and  the  loss  of  dear  friends,  and  perplexities  about 
their  own  ])osiii()n.  The  anxiety,  the  sorrow  at 
dillering  and  parting,  seem  now  almost  extrava- 
gant and  unintelligible.  There  are  those  who 
sneer  at  the  "  distress  "  of  that  time.  There  had 
not  })(;cn  the  same  suHtu-ing,  the  same  estrange- 
ment, when  Chiirchnicn  turned  Dissenters,  like 
IJuItcel  and  Baptist  isovl.  But  the  movement  had 
rnlHod  the  wliole  sc/ihs  of  feeling  aV)out  religious 
niutteiH  HO  liigli,  the  (|uestioiis  were  iv.\t  to  be  so 
nioiueiitous,  the  stake  and  the  issue  so  jirecious, 
1  lie  "  l<»ss  and  gain  "  sn  immense,  I  hat    I  (»  dilVei"  on 


30  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

such  subjects  was  the  differing  on  the  greatest 
things  which  men  could  differ  about.  But  in  a 
time  of  distress,  of  which  few  analogous  situations 
in  our  days  can  give  the  measure,  the  leaders  stood 
firm.  Dr.  Pusey,  Mr.  Keble,  Mr.  Marriott  accepted, 
with  unshaken  faith  in  the  cause  of  the  English 
Church,  the  terrible  separation.  They  submitted 
to  the  blow — submitted  to  the  reproach  of  having 
been  associates  of  those  who  had  betrayed  hopes 
and  done  so  much  mischief ;  submitted  to  the 
charge  of  inconsistency^,  insincerity,  cowardice ; 
but  they  did  not  flinch.  Their  unshrinking  atti- 
tude was  a  new  point  of  departure  for  those  who 
believed  in  the  Catholic  foundation  of  the  English 
Church. 

'  Among  those  deeply  affected  by  these  changes, 
there  were  many  who  had  been  absolutely 
uninfluenced  by  the  strong  Roman  current.  They 
had  recognized  many  good  things  in  the  Roman 
Church;  they  were  fully  alive  to  many  short- 
comings in  the  English  Church  ;  bvit  the  possibility 
of  submission  to  the  Roman  claims  had  never  been 
a  question  with  them.' 

Echoes  of  the  storm  of  course  reached  Otter- 
bourne,  and  Miss  Yonge  tells  us  herself  how  she 
remembered  a  long  walk  by  the  river  with  Mr. 
Keble,  in  which  he  went  into  the  question  of  Rome 
with  her,  and  ended  the  talk  with — 

'  No  doubt  we  could  ask  Roman  Catholics  many 
questions  they  could  not  answer,  and  they  could 
ask  us  many  which  we  could  not  answer ;  we  can 


THE  EARLY  BOOKS  31 

only  each  go  on  in  our  o^vn  way,  holding  to  the 
truth  that  we  know  we  have.'* 

Mr.  Keble  was  a  loyal  son  of  the  Church  of 
England  ;  he  felt  that  to  leave  her  was  absohitely 
wrong  ;  but  he  grew  to  see  how  much  she  had  lost, 
and  how  impossible  it  was  to  say  that  either  Rome 
or  England  was  wholly  right  or  wholly  Avrong. 

Charlotte  was  certainly  established  by  him.  She 
never  seems  to  have  felt  any  doubt  after  those  first 
questionings,  and  one  of  her  latest  books  is  Why  am 
I  a  Catholic,  and  not  a  Roman  Catholic  ?  Yet  she 
was  never  blind  to  what  was  true.  Many  years  after 
she  wrote  to  a  friend  (Miss  Cazenove),  who  had 
said  some  things  in  a  letter  as  to  the  claims  of  the 
Churcli : 

'  April,  1805. 

•My  dear  Annie, 

'  If  only  you  would  not  snap  your  fingers  at 
Rome  !  I  don't  want  to  give  her  more  than  her 
due,  but  I  do  love  and  honour  S.  Gregory  the  Great 
too  much  to  like  what  we  owe  to  him  and  his  noble 
spirit  to  be  so  treated. 

'  You  know  it  is  a  fact  that,  though  there  were 
British  clergy  about,  they  did  not  choose  to  try  to 
convert  the  Saxons,  be(rauso  thoy  wished  thorn  to 
come  to  a  })ad  end  altogcthcu',  which  was  not 
exactly  Christian. 

'  Hortha  ((^iKMiuj  li.id  a  (Jallic  chaplain,  but  I 
don't  think  ho  did  inm  li.  'I'hc  impulse;  was  given 
by  S.  (Jfcgoiy  .mtmI  .\ugu--t  ini'.      I    know  I  hero  is  a 

*    lii;„llr,ti„i,s  „f  Ihr  Itrr.  Juin,    Kihlr. 


32  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

great  controversy  about  S.  Patrick,  and  nobody 
seems  to  know  certainly  whether  he  came  from 
Gaul  or  the  Lothians  before  he  was  stolen,*  or 
whether  he  was  commissioned  at  Rome  or  not. 
People  settle  it  just  the  Avay  their  inclinations 
lead  them.  I  don't  myself  think  he  went  to  Pope 
Celestine,  but  there  is  no  certainty.' 

In  the  midst  of  these  sadnesses  Charlotte's  rapidly 
developing  powers  must  have  been  great  joy  to 
Mr.  Keble.  She  had  begun  to  scribble  tales  inces- 
santly, and  there  seems  to  have  been  a  good  deal  of 
opposition  to  the  idea  of  her  publishing.  Her  grand- 
mother, especially,  seems  to  have  felt  a  horror  at  the 
idea  of  Charlotte's  coming  in  any  way  before  the 
public,  which  even  for  the  early  Victorian  age  was 
exaggerated. 

The  Kebles  were  consulted,  and  the  first  story. 
Abbey  Church,  was  taken  to  Hursley  for  criticism. 
For  many  years.  Miss  Yonge  says,  everything  she 
wrote  was  read  by  Mr.  Keble  in  manuscript.  He  was 
a  most  delightful  critic  and  an  absolutely  faultless 
reader  of  proofs.  And  there  is  no  doubt  that  there  is 
around  all  Miss  Yonge's  early  books  an  atmosphere 
of  refinement,  an  aroma  of — shall  we  say  Hursley  ? 
which  does  seem  lacking  in  some,  at  least,  of  the 
later  ones. 

Abbey  Church  was  the  first  published  tale,  and, 
crude  as  it  may  seem  to  modern  critics,  it  is,  in  the 
present  writer's  opinion,  very  charming  and  parti- 
cularly '  Miss  Yonge-ish.' 

*  We  must  remember  that  this  was  written  some  forty  years 
before  Professor  Jiury's  Life  qfS.  Patrick, 


THE  EARLY  BOOKS  33 

The  story  is  of  the  sHghtest :  a  party  of  cousins 
gathered  at  the  Vicarage  of  a  county  town  on  the 
occasion  of  the  consecration  of  a  church,  and  the 
scrape  some  of  them  fall  into  by  attending  a  lecture 
at  a  recently  founded  Mechanics'  Institute. 

But  the  cousins — two  of  them,  at  least — are  so 
delightful,  especially  Elizabeth,  who  is  just  a  little 
like  her  creator  in  her  enthusiasm  and  youthful  in- 
tolerance and  cleverness.  And  it  is  all  so  funny — 
the  horror  of  the  good  people  at  the  Mechanics'  In- 
stitute, and  the  description  of  the  ignorant  youth 
who  gives  a  lecture  for  the  purpose  of  exposing 
chivalry.  How  we  have  veered  round  now  !  How 
much  Raskin,  William  Morris,  Burne-Jones,  and 
many  another,  have  done  even  for  the  British  Philis- 
tine, to  make  him  realize  that '  on  a  renonce  a  faire 
dater  dc  Luther  lo  re  veil  de  la  raison  '!  ■' 

Elizabeth,  the  clever  daughter,  and  her  cousin 
Anne's  talk  must  have  been  a  transcript  of  the 
sort  of  thing  which  went  on  among  the  Yongo 
cousinhood. 

'  "  What  did  you  do  all  that  time?'  said  Elizabeth. 
'  Have  you  read  IIcreicar(l,iind  do  you  not  delight 
in  him  ?" 

'  "  Yes,"  said  Anne  ;  "and  I  want  to  know  if  ho 
is  ncjt  the  father  of  (.'udric;  of  K<jtherwood. " 

' "  He  must  have  been  his  grandfather,"  said 
Elizabeth.     "Ccdiic  lived  a  hundred  years  after." 

'"But  Cedric  remembered  'J'orriuilstoTio  before 
the  \(jrmans  f/ime,"  said  Anne. 

'  "  Xo,  no,  he  could  not,  i  hough  he  had  hei'U  told 

*   <  *z;iiiain. 

3 


34  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

what  it  had  been  before  Front  de  Boeuf  altered 
it,"  said  Elizabeth. 

' "  And  old  Ulrica  was  there  when  Front  de 
Boeuf "s  father  took  it,"  said  Anne. 

'  "  I  cannot  tell  how  long  a  hag  may  live,"  said 
Elizabeth,  "  but  she  could  not  have  been  less  than 
a  hundred  and  thirty  years  old  in  the  time  of 
Richard  Coeur  de  Lion." 

'  "  Coeur  de  Lion  came  to  the  throne  in  1189," 
said  Anne.  ...  "  But  then,  you  know,  Ulrica  calls 
Cedric  the  son  of  the  great  Hereward." 

'  "  Her  wits  were  a  little  out  of  order,"  said  Eliza- 
beth. "  Either  she  meant  his  grandson,  or  Sir 
Walter  Scott  made  as  great  an  anachronism  as 
when  he  made  that  same  Ulrica  compare  Rebecca's 
skin  to  paper." 

'  "  If  she  had  said  parchment,  it  would  not  have 
been  such  a  compliment.  .  .  ." 

' "  I  believe  such  stories  as  Ivanhoe  were  what 
taught  me  to  like  history.  .  .  .  They  used  to  be 
the  only  history  I  knew,  and  almost  the  only 
geography.  Do  not  you  remember  Aunt  Anne's 
laughing  at  me  for  arguing  that  Bohemia  was  on 
the  Baltic,  because  Perdita  was  left  on  its  coast  ? 
And  now  I  believe  that  Coeur  de  Lion  feasted  with 
Robin  Hood  and  his  merry  men,  although  history 
tells  me  that  he  disliked  and  despised  the  English. 

.  .  I  believe  that  Queen  Margaret  of  Anjou 
haunted  the  scenes  of  grandeur  that  once  were 
hers,  and  that  she  lived  to  see  the  fall  of  Charles 
of  Burgundy,  and  died  when  her  last  hope  failed 
her,  though  I  know  that  it  was  not  so." 


THE  EARLY  BOOKS  35 

'  "  Then  I  do  not  quite  see  how  such  stories  have 
taught  you  to  Hke  history,"  said  Anne. 

' "  They  teach  us  to  reaUze  and  understand  the 
people  whom  we  find  in  history,"  said  EKzabeth. 

'"Oil  yes,"  said  Anne.  "Who  would  care  for 
Louis  the  Eleventh  if  it  was  not  for  Quentin  Dur- 
ward?  And  Shakespeare  makes  us  feel  as  if  we 
had  been  at  the  battle  of  Shrewsbury." 

'  "  Yes,"  said  Elizabeth,  "and  they  have  done  even 
more  for  history.  They  have  taught  us  to  imagine 
other  heroes  whom  they  have  not  mentioned. 
Cannot  you  see  the  Black  Prince  —  his  slight, 
graceful  figure;  his  fair,  delicate  face  full  of  gentle- 
ness and  kindness,  fierce  warrior  as  he  is;  his  black 
steel  helmet  and  tippet  .  .  . ;  his  clustering  white 
plume ;  his  surcoat  with  England's  leopards  and 
France's  lilies  ?  Cannot  you  imagine  his  courteous 
conference  with  Bertrand  du  (iucsclin  .  .  .  and  the 
noble,  alYectionate  Captal  de  Bach,  who  died  of 
grief  for  him  ?  .  .  ." 

'"Give  Froissart  some  of  the  credit  of  j'our 
picture,"  said  Anne. 

'"Froissart  is  in  sonic  places  like  Sii-  Walter 
himself,"  said  Elizabeth  ;  "  but  now  1  will  tell  y<>n 
of  a  person  who  lived  in  no  days  of  romance,  .ind 
has  not  ha<l  1  be  advantage  of  a  practical  bistorian 
to  ligbt  bini  np  in  our  imagination.  I  mean  tbi^ 
great  Brinco  of  Conde.  Now,  tliongb  be  is  \eiy 
unlike  Shakespcarci's  C'ijriolanus,  yet  tiiert^  is 
f^nougb  resemblanct)  between  them  to  make  the 
comparis(»n  very  anuising.  There-  was  nuich  of 
Cori«)lainis'  indoniilal)U'  pritie  aixl  horror  of  mob 
|)i.[iiil;iiity    [in    Cond<''|.  .   .  .      Not    that    the    hard- 


36  CHAELOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

hearted  Conde  would  have  listened  to  his  wife  and 
mother  ...  or  that  his  arrogance  did  not  degene- 
rate into  wonderful  meanness  at  last,  such  as  Corio- 
lanus  would  have  scorned ;  but  the  parallel  was  as 
amvising.  ...  I  hate  abridgments — the  mere  bare 
bones  of  history  ;  I  cannot  bear  dry  facts,  such  as 
that  Charles  the  Fifth  beat  Francis  the  First  at 
Pavia,  in  a  war  for  the  Duchy  of  Milan,  and  nothing 
more  told  about  them.  I  am  always  ready  to  say, 
as  the  Grand  Seignior  did  about  some  great  battle 
among  the  Christians,  that  I  do  not  care  whether 
the  dog  bites  the  hog,  or  the  hog  bites  the  dog." 

' "  What  a  kind  interest  in  your  fellow-creatures 
you  display !"  said  Anne.  "I  think  one  reason  why 
I  like  history  is  because  I  am  searching  out  all  the 
characters  who  come  up  to  my  notion  of  perfect 
chivalry,  or,  rather,  of  Christian  perfection.  I  am 
making  a  book  of  true  knights."  '* 

Perhaps  all  this  sounds  very  bookish  and  pedantic, 
but  how  delicious  it  is  !  and,  after  all,  some  literary 
enthusiasm  is  almost  more  desirable  than  perpetual 
talk  about  games. 

Elizabeth  has  something  about  her  which  makes 
one  love  this  first  of  the  long  line  of  Miss  Yonge's 
heroines  very  much,  and  we  are  sure  she  died  young, 
and  perhaps  rather  suddenly. 

About  this  time  the  Mozleys  were  bringing  out 
the  Magazine  for  the  Young,  a  delightful  little  two- 
penny production,  and  in  it  Miss  Yonge  wrote  some 
of  her  most  delicious  little  tales.     '  Langley  School ' 

*  Miss  Yonge  really  did  thiSj  as  we  have  seen  in  the  little  bit  of 
autobiography. 


THE  EARLY  BOOKS  37 

is  the  first  of  those  village  tales,  of  which,  perhaps, 
'  Ben  Sylvester's  Word '  is  the  gem. 

All  these  tales  are  really  valuable.  They  are 
accurate  studies  of  a  state  of  things  fast  iDassing 
away.  The  children  are  as  cleverly  sketched  and 
are  as  Jiving  as  are  the  best-known  characters  in  the 
longer  book.  '  Langley  School,'  '  Friarswood  Post 
Office,'  '  Ben  Sj'lvester's  Word,'  '  Leonard  the  Lion- 
Heart,'  are  all  perfect  little  talcs,  and  slioidd  not  be 
forgotten.  And  in  her  later  village  chronicles  the 
children,  who  appear  as  grown-up  people,  are  them- 
selves— we  recognize  our  old  friends.  We  will  quote 
an  admiral)le  notice  by  Miss  Christabel  Coleridge : 

'These  tfiles  of  village  life  during  the  latter  hall' 
of  the  nineteenth  century  have  hardly  ever  l)een 
witicly  known,  and  are  now,  wo  f(»ar,  almost  for- 
gotten by  th(^  ])res('nt  gcnci-ation.  The  earlier 
ones  describe  a  world  now  ])ass('(l  away,  but  llu? 
later  ones  are  still  fairly  up  to  date.  They  all 
drpict  village  life;  inidcr  ra\-oinal)le,  but  not  ideal, 
circumstances,  and  uot  through  the  ros«>-coloui'ctl 
spect^icles  uliicli  Miss  Mitl'ord  i)ut  on  when  she 
wrote  her  delightful  Our  \'i//(i(/c.  They  are,  in 
fact,  the  successors  of  Mrs.  Haniiali  More's  /lldc/c 
dili-s  nui]  ffrs/i-r  ll'ilinof,  n\\d  tiiey  show  what  the 
(hurch  has  done  to  mend  the  evils  to  which  those 
clover  tracts  first  ••.illi-d  alti-ntion.  Smuc  day  I  lie 
"  Fjingley  'I'ales  "  will  he  lepiinl  ed  a-^  <|,i^>ir-..  .ind 
the  little  gii-ls  of  Langley  Sehoid  will  appi-ar  in 
their  pink  fi'o«li>^,  white  lipjx'ls,  and  cottagt' 
bonnet-,  ti'ininii-d  wjlh  giei-n.  «lain(y  and  pic- 
turcHcpie  in  "  I'laily  \  ictorian  "  style.     Li    IK.M)  (ir 


38  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

so  they  will  bo  valuable  evidence  of  what  the 
Church  of  England  did  for  education  and  civiliza- 
tion when  she  still  had  the  village  schools  in  her 
hand.  Great  as  was  the  influence  of  The  Daisy 
Chain  and  The  Heir  of  Redely ffe  on  the  girls  of 
their  da}^  I  doubt  if  either  did  more  to  stir  uj)  the 
generation  who  "did  parish  work"  on  High  Church 
lines  during  the  latter  half  of  the  last  century  than 
LancjJey  School. 

'  Langley  was  a  small  but  prosperous  village  in 
a  southern  county.  It  was  not  exactly  Otterbourne 
under  another  name,  though  some  of  its  character- 
istics were  naturally  derived  from  it,  but  it  was  a 
less  considerable  place,  the  only  landowner  being, 
apparently,  "  Squire  Manners,"  and  only  one,  or  at 
most  two,  farmers  being  mentioned.  Nor  Avere 
the  little  Langley  girls  portraits  of  Otterbourne 
school-children.  They  were  created  after  their 
kind  with  unerring  truth  to  life,  and  an  individu- 
ality which  survived  through  two  or  three  genera- 
tions. The  original  "  Langley  School "  began  as  a 
series  of  sketches  in  the  Magazine  for  the  Young  in 
1847.  These  consolidated  into  a  story  ;  the  school 
was  the  connecting  link.  Miss  Edith  and  Miss 
Dora  Manners  taught  the  children  and  loved  them 
with  the  whole  enthusiasm  of  the  new  "  Oxford 
Movement"  in  their  hearts,  though  they  never 
talked  about  their  duty  towards  their  neighbour 
— they  only  did  it.  The  story  ends  with  the  mar- 
riage of  Miss  Edith,  and  with  the  presentation  to 
her  by  the  children  of  a  patchwork  quilt  of  their 
own  making.  The  "  young  ladies  "  are  on  a  con- 
siderable elevation,  and  are  never  exactly  intimate 


CIIAKLoriK    MAKV    YONGH. 


'I'o/ace  fiage  38. 


THE  EARLY  BOOKS  39 

with  the  children;  but  the  whole  subsequent 
relation  of  Sunday-school  teacher  and  scholar,  of 
G.F.S.  associate  and  member,  was  there  in  germ, 
and  whether  or  no  the  book  made  "  young  ladies  " 
interesting  to  school-children,  it  made  school- 
cliildren  enchanting  to  young  ladies.  There  is  no 
Government  inspector,  but  good,  sound,  and  quite 
intelligent  teaching  had  begun,  and  the  Sunday 
lessons  here  and  there  given  are  models  not 
excelled  by  the  newest  "catechism"  in  our  day. 
The  life  described  is  simple,  wholesome,  and  secure. 
The  virtues  inculcated  are  family  affection  and 
duty,  absolute  truth  in  word  and  deed,  modesty, 
and  great  self-control  of  manners  and  conduct. 
The  Langley  children  learnt  "  how  to  behave." 
Most  of  them  were  children  of  labourers  and 
servants  on  the  estate,  and  some  of  small  free- 
holders, and  there  seems  to  have  been  no  poverty 
to  speak  of. 

'  The  characters  of  this  simjilo  story — all  very 
simple,  too — are  as  distinct  as  their  prototypes  in 
the  flesh.  None  of  us  who  were  young  in  the 
fifties  and  sixties  will  ever  forget  good  Amy  Lee; 
Kate  Cii'cy,  who  was  chncrci-,  but  not  quite  so 
good;  Elizalicth  Kingsley,  who  was  very  superior ; 
Clonimy  FieMing,  who  was  far  Iroiii  being  as  good 
as  hIk'  ought  to  be  ;  iMiiily  Mo  it  is,  \\  ho  i  old  stori<'s; 
and  .laiic  .\nstr\,  wIki  diaiik  lirr  little  sister's 
milk.  We  remember  tin  in  a->  wc  remember  the 
KnteHaml  Amys  of  real  life,  whom  wc  ourselves 
ti'ied  to  l)riiig  up  to  tin'  same  st  am  la  id.  Tiiey  were 
our  models,  whet  her  our  scholars  emleavoured  to 
imitate  tliem   or  not.     'riie\    eeriaiiiU    !i\e(l    ill  a 


40  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

"  d;iwn-golden  "  time,  and  in  an  "  atmosphere"  not 
only  of  cheerful  sunshine  and  fresh  country  air, 
but  of  secure,  uncontroversial  respect  for  religion 
and  virtue,  undisturbed  by  Acts  of  Parliament ; 
that  "  atmosphere "  whi(;li  few  writers  on  educa- 
tional subjects  have  ever  breathed,  and  which  they 
often  misrepresent.  The  gradual  growth  of  the 
religious  motive,  the  slow  improvement  in  conduct, 
is  true  to  life,  and  is  what  earnest,  careful  workers 
may  look  to  produce.  There  is  one  jarring  note 
to  our  ears.  However  glad  we  of  this  day  may  be 
to  escape  from  the  naughty  little  Publicans  of 
juvenile  fiction  who  give  thanks  that  they  are  not 
good  little  Pharisees,  we  could  hardly  be  content 
to  leave  the  naughty  girl  who  stole  the  patchwork, 
expelled  from  Sunday  and  week-day  school,  and 
apparently  outcast  for  ever.  It  is  good  that  she 
is  not  the  centre  of  interest,  but  we  should  be 
sorry  to  leave  her  without  hope. 

'  Langley  was  as  real  a  place  as  Barchester,  and 
after  many  years,  in  the  early  eighties,  Miss  Yonge 
returned  to  its  inhabitants.  The  later  "  Langley 
Stories"  describe  the  descendants  of  our  old 
friends,  and  depict  the  village  school  and  common- 
wealth as  it  existed,  at  any  rate,  up  to  the  Educa- 
tion Act  of  1902.  The  school  is  inspected,  the 
teachers  are  certificated,  and  all  modern  advan- 
tages of  education,  dress,  and  habits  are  freely 
welcomed  and  enjoyed.  The  tales  take  in  older 
characters,  and  a  much  wider  air  blows  through 
them,  but  they  are  quite  as  accurate  and  life-like. 
The  village  school  of  the  eighties  and  nineties  is 
quite  as  vividly  shown  in  The  Third  Standard  and 


THE  EARLY  BOOKS  41 

in  Left  Out  as  that  of  the  forties  in  the  original 
Langley  School.  Miss  Dora  lives  unmarried  in 
Langley,  and  is  the  parish  "  lady  of  all  work." 
There  is,  however,  more  pathos  and  more  humour 
in  the  later  stories,  and  much  more  tenderness 
towards  childish  faults.  "Frank's  Debt"  in  Langley 
Lads  and  Lasses,  a  tale  of  a  big  farm  boy,  who 
gradually  grows  a  conscience  and  repays  his  good 
aunt  the  money  she  lent  him,  is  as  good  a  piece  of 
character-drawing  as  can  be  found  in  tales  of 
working-class  life.  Of  the  two  last  Langley  stories, 
Setcing  and  Solving,  though  longer  and  more  com- 
plete, is  not  quite  so  successful.  The  Hollises,  the 
daughters  of  the  unsatisfactory  Clementina,  who, 
though  improved,  is  still  herself,  are  very  clever 
sketches.  Bat  Amy  Lee  the  second,  Avho  allows 
the  smart  groom  to  flirt  with  her,  is  a  little  fine- 
spun. A  pretty  village  niaid  had  better  grow  up 
to  endure  a  few  compliments  with  equanimity,  and 
would  certainly  have  heard  of  her  beauty  before 
she  left  school.  The  last  of  all,  Pickle  and  Jiis 
Page-hoy,  is  quite  charming.  Pickle  is  quite  as 
real  a  Skye  terrier  as  his  page  is  a  real  boy,  and 
their  adventures  are  at  once  delightful,  funny,  and 
edifying,  and  if  brought  out  in  modern  style,  with 
good  illustrations,  \n'()u1(I  make  an  excellent  j)rize- 
book. 

*I  do  not  tliijik  that  the  literary  merit  of  these 
simj)lo  tales  lias  (^yov  been  fully  recognized  — the 
skill  with  which  local  coloui'ing  is  conveyed  with- 
out long  and  ('lal)orat<;  tlescrij)t ions,  the  excellent 
construction  ol'  the  simple  plots  A\hich  always 
hang  togethci',  and.  cliiclly,  1  he  (dear cut  <  haracters 


42  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

described  in  them.  The  sound-hearted,  sensible, 
but  slow  peasant,  old  and  young,  who  wears  a 
smock-frock  in  the  earlier  stories,  and  a  good  coat 
in  the  latter  ones,  as  he  acquires  a  little  more 
education  and  knowledge  of  the  world ;  the  reli- 
gious and  refined  village  matron  or  elderly  servant, 
the  best  ouU'ome  of  the  village  school ;  the  clever 
youth  or  bright  girl  Avho  rises  in  life,  and  the 
stupid,  idle  ones  who  fall  in  it — all  these  are  given 
"in  their  habit  as  they  lived."  The  grades  of 
village  society,  the  relations  of  farmers  and  shop- 
keepers, labourers  and  head  servants,  are  all  given 
simply  as  facts,  and  ungrudgingly  recognized.' 

Tales  of  another  kind  were  engrossing  her.  Scenes 
and  Characters ;  or.  Eighteen  Months  at  Beechcroft, 
we  think,  must  have  been  always  a  favourite  of  its 
author,  for  the  fortunes  of  the  Moliun  family,  who 
lived  at  Beechcroft,  were  always  in  her  mind,  and 
we  meet  Mohuns  again  and  again  in  later  years. 

Scenes  and  Characters,  however,  does  not  seem  to 
us  quite  so  vivid  and  bright  as  the  two  stories  which 
came  out  in  the  Churchtnan's  Companion — Henri- 
etta's Wish  and  The  Tivo  Guardians. 

The  first  of  these  is  an  admirable  illustration  of 
the  extraordinary  change  which  has  come  over  our 
attitude  as  to  the  relative  duties  of  parents  and 
children. 

Henrietta  and  her  brother  Fred  are  the  children 
of  a  Mr.  Frederick  Langton,  who  was  killed  by  a  fall 
from  his  horse  when  he  was  on  a  visit  to  his  father's 
place  in  the  country.  His  wife,  who  is  represented 
as  a  charming  and  saintly  person,  takes  up  her  abode 


THE  EARLY  BOOKS  43 

at  a  seaside  place,  and  brings  np  her  two  children 
there.  '  Henrietta's  wish,'  a  iDerf  ectly  natural,  not  to 
say  laudable  one,  is  to  visit  her  grandparents  and 
her  father's  home,  and  spend  Christinas  with  the 
numerous  cousins  who  are  gathered  there.  And  at 
last,  when  she  and  her  brother  are  fifteen  and  four- 
teen, this  wish  is  granted.  They  all  pay  a  visit  to 
the  old  home.  But  the  most  dire  consequences  arise. 

Fred,  who,  greatly  to  his  credit,  is  not  an  absolute 
muff,  is  fretted  by  continual  restraint.  He  must  not 
drive,  must  not  skate  with  his  cousins  until  his  Uncle 
Geoffrey  has  vouched  for  the  safety  of  the  ice.  At 
last  he  does  drive  with  an  impetuous  and  charming 
cousin,  Beatrice,  Uncle  Geoffrey's  daughter ;  the 
horse  bolts,  he  is  pitched  on  his  head,  and  a  bad 
illness  ensues.  From  the  overfatigue  arising  from 
his  illness  his  mother  dies.  Fred  was  certainly  wilful 
and  disoVjcdient,  l)ut  that  i)oor  Henrietta  should  also 
be  blamed  for  her  '  wish  '  does  seem  unjust. 

Of  course,  nowadays  the  modern  mother  would  be 
braced,  and  made  to  feel  that  to  indulge  her  nerves 
was  positively  wrong,  and  that  her  children  were 
rather  to  be  pitied  than  blamed  if  they  found  her 
nerves  tiresome;.  For  the  rest,  the  story  is  delicious. 
The  diiferont  cousins,  the  delightful  Uncle  Geofl'rey 
(said  to  1)(^  ii  pictui'e  of  Mi*.  Yonge),  (he  kind  old 
grnndfut  li(!r,  tlie  fussy  grandmother  who  thinks 
private  theatricals  shocking,  the  description  of  the 
village  chuifli  .•mil  flic  lu'wfangh'd  Christmas  decor- 
jilions,  ;irc  ali  \i\iil,  mikI  recall  lhos(!  (\'irly  days 
ulicn  iiH  y(!l  no  one  llioiiglil  that  midday  Com- 
munion was  undesirable,  (jr  that  it  might  be  possible 
for  the  unconfirmcil  to  bo  present  at  the  Eucharist. 


44  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

The  Tico  Guardians  has  some  charming  descrip- 
tions of  Devonshire  and  some  life-like  schoolboys. 
(Miss  Yonge's  boys  are  very  real.)  The  heroine  is  a 
very  fine  character,  and  the  book  is  a  real  advance. 
We  have  in  this  book  the  first  expression  of  the 
author's  attitude  towards  what  was  then  known  as 
'  rationalism '  or  '  Germanism,'  what  we  call  '  higher 
criticism.'  And,  by  the  way,  those  first  attacks  of 
criticism  which  became  known  to  Churchmen  and 
to  English  Christians  were  not  made  known  to  them 
by  reasonable  scholarly  Christians.  There  was  then 
no  Westcott,  no  George  Adam  Smith,  or  any  of  those 
numerous  scholars  who  have  done  so  much  to  re- 
assure us.  People  might  be  excused  for  panic  when 
criticism  came,  not  as  the  endeavour  of  true  and 
courageous  Christians  to  ascertain  what  was  truth, 
but  as  an  attack  on  Christian  faith.  We  smile, 
perhaps,  at  the  fears  of  those  who  came  before  us, 
but  they  were  not  unjustified.  '  The  Liberals  are 
deficient  in  religion,  and  the  religious  are  deficient 
in  liberality,'  said  Archbishop  Tait.^' 

Miss  Dyson  had  set  up  a  school  for  girls  of  the 
lower  middle  class,  and  for  these  Charlotte  wrote 
The  Chosen  People  and  Kings  of  England. 

*  See  an  admirable  permon  by  the  Bisliop  of  Gloucester  on  the 
'  Criticism  of  the  ( )1(1  Testament/  in  liis  book  The  Old  Testament  and 
its  Messages. 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  '  MONTHLY  PACKET ' 

(1851) 

In  1851  M  new  venture  appeared,  and  with  it  so  much 
of  Miss  Yonge's  work  is  identified  that  we  must 
dwell  on  it. 

This  was  the  beginning  of  the  Monthhj  Packet. 
Miss  Coleridge  tells  us  that  the  tone  of  the  Church- 
mans  Companion  had  become  rather  controversial, 
and  it  was  felt  that  something  deeper  and  less 
acrimonious  might  be  useful. 

The  preface  to  the  first  number  is  so  beautiful, 
and  the  words  as  to  the  Church  so  extraordinarily 
applicable  to  this  very  time,  that  we  venture  to 
reprint  it : 

'If  the  pretty  old  terms  "maidens"  and  "damsels" 
had  not  gone  out  of  fashion,  I  should  address  this 
letter  by  that  name  to  the  readers  for  whom  this 
little  book  is  in  the  first  place  intended— young 
girls,  or  maidens,  or  young  ladies,  whichever  you 
like  to  be  called,  who  are  above  the  ago  of  child- 
hood, and  who  are  either  looking  back  on  school- 
days witli  regret,  or  else  pursuing  the  most  im- 
portant part  of  education,  namely,  self -education. 

45 


46  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

'  It  has  been  said  that  everyone  forms  their  own 
character  between  the  ages  of  fifteen  and  five-and- 
twenty,  and  tliis  magazine  is  meant  to  be  in  some 
degree  a  lielp  to  those  who  are  thus  forming  it ; 
not  as  a  guide,  since  that  is  the  part  of  deeper  and 
graver  books,  but  as  a  companion  in  times  of 
recreation,  which  may  help  you  to  perceive  how 
to  bring  your  religious  principles  to  bear  upon 
your  daily  life,  may  show  you  the  examples,  both 
good  and  evil,  of  historical  persons,  and  may  tell 
you  of  the  workings  of  God's  providence  both  here 
and  in  other  lands. 

'With  this  view,  it  is  proposed  to  give  you  a 
series  of  scenes  from  history,  dwelling  on  the 
more  interesting  periods  and  characters.  Suppose 
we  call  them  Cameos,  as  they  are  to  present  scenes 
and  heroes  in  relief,  and  may  be  strung  together 
w^ith  the  chain  of  your  former  lessons  in  history. 
A  few  tales  which,  though  of  course  imaginary, 
may  serve  to  show  you  the  manners  and  ways  of 
thinking  of  past  times,  will  be  introduced  from 
time  to  time,  with  stories  of  our  own  days,  accounts 
of  foreign  lands,  biographies,  translations,  and 
extracts  from  books  which  are  not  likely  to  come 
in  your  way,  or  of  which  the  whole  may  not  be 
desirable  reading  for  you,  so  as,  it  is  hoped,  to 
conduce  to  your  amusement,  and,  at  the  same 
time,  to  the  instruction  of  such  as  are  anxious  "  to 
get  wisdom  and  understanding."  Above  all,  it  is 
the  especial  desire  and  prayer  of  those  who  address 
you  through  the  pages  of  this  magazine,  that  what 
you  find  there  may  tend  to  make  you  more  stead- 
fast and  dutiful  daughters  of  our  own  beloved 


THE  '  MONTHLY  PACKET '  47 

Catholic  Church  of  England,  and  may  go  alongside 
in  all  respects  with  the  teaching,  both  doctrinal 
and  practical,  of  the  Prayer  Book.  For  we  live  in 
a  time  of  more  than  ordinary  trial,  and  our  middle 
path  seems  to  have  grown  narrower  than  ever. 
The  walls  of  the  glorious  Temple  in  which  we 
have  been  Ijuilded  up  seem  to  shake,  though  that 
is  but  seeming,  since  they  are  based  on  a  Kock, 
and  the  foundations  are  the  Apostles  and  Prophets, 
and  not  one  of  the  smallest  of  the  living  stones 
need  fall  from  its  own  station,  even  though  larger, 
more  important,  and  seemingly  more  precious  ones 
may  totter  and  rend  themselves  away.  Small 
stones  as  we  may  be,  yet  we  can,  we  may,  we  must 
keep  our  places  in  the  fitly  framed  building,  where 
it  may  indeed  be  vouchsafed  to  some  even  of  us 
to  be  "  as  polished  corners  of  the  Temple."  This  is 
speaking  more  seriously  than  I  meant  at  first  to 
have  done  ;  but  who  can  speak  of  the  Church  in 
these  days  and  not  be  grave,  even  though  w^e 
know  that  tlie  gates  of  hell  shall  not  prevail 
against  her  ? 

'  TlioLigh  this  letter  lias  been  chiony  addressed 
to  young  gills,  it  is  not  intentled  tliat  the  pages  of 
this  magazine  should  be  exclusively  for  them.  It 
is  ])urp()sed  to  make  it  such  as  may  be  pleasant 
reading  for  Ijoys  of  the  same  age,  especially  school- 
teachers ;  and  it  is  lioped  that  it  may  be  found 
useful  to  young(!r  readers,  either  of  (he  drawing- 
room,  the  servants'  hall,  or  the  lending  library.' 

The  Packet  bog/m  in  a   very  quiet  way,  a  Innnble 
little    magazine,    in    1851.      Tlir    tliiily    little    Mark 


48  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

volumes  of  those  early  years  (1851  to  1865)  are  before 
the  writer,  and  it  may  be  a  jjrejudice,  but  they  do 
seem  much  less  old-fashioned  and  behind  the  times 
than  most  of  the  other  magazine  literature  of  those 
years. 

There  are  not  a  few  men  and  women  who  were 
young  people  in  the  flourishing  days  of  the  Packet, 
the  seventies  and  eighties,  who  could,  if  they  would, 
say  that  Miss  Yonge's  hopes  had  been  realized. 

At  first  Miss  Yonge  was  the  chief  contributor. 
She  starts  off  with  '  Cameos  from  English  History,' 
and  those  '  Cameos '  went  on  for  forty-seven  years — 
an  extraordinary  feat.  They  are,  of  course,  not  all 
equally  good,  but  they  give  a  wonderful  amount 
of  information,  of  picturesque  detail,  of  anecdote. 
They  have  that  photographic  style,  so  to  speak, 
in  which  Miss  Yonge  excelled.  It  is  quite  possible 
to  find  abvmdant  fault.  Miss  Yonge's  style  was  by 
no  means  irreproachable,  and  the  very  familiar 
terms  on  which  she  lived  with  the  i)ersonages  of  the 
Middle  Ages  seems  at  times  to  make  her  forget  the 
depths  of  her  readers'  ignorance  ;  but  a  more  charm- 
ing set  of  books  to  which  to  refer  and  with  which 
to  lighten  up  the  schoolroom  reading  of  standard 
histories  does  not  exist.  We  are  anticipating,  but 
who  gives  a  more  picturesque  account  of  the  Con- 
queror, of  Henry  V.,  of  James  I.  of  Scotland,  and  of 
various  episodes  in  which  English  and  Continental 
history  were  interwoven?  That  is  one  of  the 
peculiar  merits  of  Miss  Yonge's  '  Cameos.'  The 
insular  view  of  English  history  leads  to  most  extra- 
ordinary ignorance  at  times,  and  it  would  be  inter- 
esting to  know  how  many  ordinary  people  have  any 


THE  '  MONTHLY  PACKET  '  49 

idea  of  what  is  meant  by  the  '  Duchy  of  Burgundy,' 
the  '  Holy  Roman  Empire,'  the  '  Babylonish  Cap- 
tivity,' '  Canossa,'  and  so  on. 

Then  in  October  she  began  the  '  Conversations  on 
the  Catechism.' 

Also  Miss  Yonge  began  to  write  the  long  series  of 
stories  so  often  connected  with  each  other,  so  that 
there  are  links  between  the  Castlc-Builders,  one  of 
the  earliest,  and  the  very  latest  of  her  tales. 

And  it  was  in  those  early  days  that  she  wrote  that 
gem  of  historical  stories,  The  Little  Duke,  which  is 
still  as  fresh  and  delightful  and  as  much  appreciated 
by  the  right-minded  youthful  reader  as  it  doubtless 
was  in  those  early  days. 

It  was  followed  by  The  Lances  of  Lynicood  and  The 
Prince  and  the  Parfe,  whifh  are  delightful,  but  not 
equal  to  the  Little  Duhr,  which  was  never  surpassed 
l)y  Miss  Yonge. 

The  Ddisj/  Chain,  The  Trial,  The  Vounc/ Stepmother, 
made  their  aj)i)(;arance  also  in  these  little  black 
volumes.  And  there  were  other  writers  also  who 
did  much  good  work.  There  was  an  excellent  story 
which  one  can  still  read  with  phvisure,  On  the  liatiks 
of  the  Thome.  The  author  wrote;  one  or  two  other 
pleasant  lit  t  Ic  storirs  in  \ho  Chnrchinan'  a  Companion, 
Jind  showed  a  considerable  power  of  drawing  char- 
acter and  of  understanding  of  boys.  A  slightly 
tyrannical  father  is  usiially  to  be  lomul  in  lieiw//v/- 
iiHifis  prrs(tn(r  -oiu^  of  the  tokens,  by  t  he  way.  of  the 
cliange  in  our  outlook.  I''athers.  whether  foi-  better 
or  worse,  for  tln-iiio-l  p.'nt  ;ire  not  tyr.iniii<;i|  now- 
adays. 

Tlie  /*(ii  /:rf  was  a  I  ways  full  of  edifying  inforniat  ion 


50  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

from  its  earliest  days,  and  these  little  volumes  con- 
tained many  excellent  papers,  and  about  them  there 
is  just  that  tovich  of  refinement,  that  note  of  un- 
worldliness,  that  loftiness  of  ideal,  that  severity  with 
self,  which  arc  noticeable  in  all  the  early  leaders — 
men  and  women  alike — of  those  first  days  of  Church 
re\'ivaL 

Bracing  oneself  to  endure  is  the  key-note  of  even 
the  young.  Perhaps  the  fruit  of  such  teaching  is  to 
be  fovmd  in  many  a  Community  of  devoted  Sisters, 
in  many  a  holy  and  obscure  life  of  unwearied  good 
works. 

And  of  course  there  were  papers  about  Church 
work,  and  now  and  then  a  description  of  some  cere- 
mony in  the  Greek  Church,  recalling  to  us  now  the 
interest  in,  and  the  hopes  for,  the  Greek  Communion 
felt  by  some  of  the  leaders. 

As  time  went  on,  writers  now  well  known  to  us 
all  made  their  appearance  in  the  Packet,  among  them 
Mrs.  Alfred  Scott-Gatty,  the  distinguished  mother  of 
an  even  more  distinguished  daughter.  Mrs.  Gatty 
did  for  children  something  of  the  work  that  Miss 
Yonge  did  for  their  elders,  and  certainly  no  child's 
magazine  has  ever  taken  the  place  of  Aunt  Judy. 

In  1860  the  Packet  appeared  in  an  enlarged  shape, 
and  the  bound  volumes  are  much  larger  than  the 
first  set.  The  Six  Cushions  came  out  in  this  series. 
Miss  Yonge  had  a  great  knack  of  describing  national 
characteristics ;  the  high-bred,  rather  stiff,  and  alto- 
gether delightful  Scotch  family  are  true  portraits. 
Dante  readings  began  in  1869,  and  Miss  Yonge's 
beautiful  Musings  on  ilie '  Christian  Year '  and  '  Lyra 
Jnnocentium.' 


.    go     g 

<        .  C        . 
^     a  a:     w 


S    '^2 


c/}  23 

a:  !« 

.J 

W  O 

o  ^ 


THE  '  MONTHLY  PACKET  '  51 

Miss  Yonge  began  the  Caged  Lion  in  1868. 

It  was  just  about  then  that  a  paper  appeared  in 
the  Packet  which  seemed  clever  and  funny,  and  not 
hkely  to  have  its  prophecies  reahzed.  Yet  something 
of  what  it  foretold  has  come  to  pass. 

A  very  behind-the-age  Rector  (this  was  in  1807) 
goes  to  visit  a  college  friend,  and  finds  a  church 
restored  according  to  all  the  fervour  of  those  early 
days,  and  he  dreams  at  night  that  a  descendant  of 
his  present  host  comes  in  and  announces  that  the 
church  is  now  restored  and  the  whitewash  is  back, 
the  organ  done  away  with,  the  singing  men  in  the 
gallery. 

It  sounded  very  ridiculous  in  1807,  but  nowadays, 
when  plainsong  comes  to  the  front,  the  organ  is  a 
good  deal  repressed,  galleries  for  singers  and  instru- 
ments are  not  unknown,  and  the  stained  glass  of  the 
sixties  makes  us  shudder. 

Descriptions  of  Church  work  are  more  frequent, 
and  mentions  of  Religious  Communities  occur. 

Some  excellent  papers  on  English  hymnology 
began  in  1807;  they  are  still  interesting  and  full  of 
sound  ciiti<ism. 

Miss  Yonge,  it  may  be  noticed,  was  always  abreast 
of  modern  movements.  She  never  joined  in  the  cry 
against  women's  colh^ges,  and  she  had  not  much  of 
1  hat  obscui-anlist  spii-it, which  li;is  done  so  nuich  ha y\n 
to  the  cause  of  religion  ■•i1  Ica'^t,  so  far  as  (MJncaiion 
was  concerned.  Ev<'n  in  t  hose  very  early  days  (lu'ic 
}ipI)(!ar(Ml  a  paper  on  examinations  for  girls,  and 
another  on  1  he  advantages  of  t  rained  nurses  forflu^ 
[)oor.  These  things  ar(^  the  common  pi^ssession  of 
all  now  ;  they  were  battlelields  forty  years  ago. 

4-2 


52  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

Miss  Yonp^e,  also,  was  anything  but  exclusively 
literary  in  her  tastes ;  she  loved  botany,  natural 
history,  science  (when  it  did  not  touch  on  ultimate 
problems),  and,  as  time  went  on,  some  excellent 
]iapers  on  various  branches  of  science  found  their 
way  into  the  Packet— some,  if  we  mistake  not,  from 
the  pen  of  the  present  Canon  Wilson  of  Worcester. 

For  more  directly  relij^ious  teaching  there  was 
Miss  Yonge's  IVomankhid,  which  maybe  a  little  old- 
fashioned,  but  which  will  repay  reading,  and  in 
some  ways  is  quite  unique.  Dr.  Littledale  contri- 
buted a  series  of  jiapers  on  Sisterhoods,  which  have 
never  been  republished,  and  which  are  full  of  com- 
mon sense  and  information.  It  is  much  to  be 
wished  that  heads  of  Communities  would  read  and 
ponder  his  words  about  health  and  the  sin  of  bad 
cooking  in  chapter  vii. 

Various  sketches  of  the  work  done  by  nurses  in 
the  Franco-German  War  appeared  in  these  years, 
and  are  extremely  graphic  and  interesting. 

And  there  is  a  description  of  the  cholera  at 
Plymouth  in  1849  in  the  May  number  of  1871,  which 
will  bear  reading  at  this  distant  date.  Mr.  Prynne's 
name  is  engraved  on  his  people's  hearts,  and  this 
story  of  his  and  of  the  little  band  of  Sisters'  heroism 
should  never  be  forgotten.* 

Mar/nuni  Bonum,  another  family  chronicle,  ap- 
peared in  1877,  1878,  1879. 

Miss  Yonge  added  two  more  family  chronicles — 
Tv^o  Sides  of  a  Shield  and  Beechcroft  at  Rochstone. 

Two  more  of  Miss  Yonge's  historical  stories 
came  out  between  1880  and  1890.     Tivo  Penniless 

*  It  now  appears  iu  Mr.  Prynne's  Life. 


THE  '  MONTHLY  PACKET '  53 

Princesses  leads  us  into  the  byways  of  history,  and 
so  does  A  Modern  Quest  of  Ulysses. 

This  was  the  old  Monthly  Packet  from  1851  to  1890. 
Perhaps  to  modern  eyes  it  looks  a  little  dull ;  per- 
haps Miss  Yonge  had  ceased  to  interest  a  modern 
generation.  AN'ith  all  its  faults,  it  breathed  a  frag- 
rance of  bygone  days.  It  was  always  loyal  and 
high-toned,  and  seemed  to  have  taken  for  its  motto, 
'  ^V'hatsoever  things  are  honest,  whatsoever  things 
are  pure,  whatsoever  things  are  lovely,  whatsoever 
things  are  of  good  report,  if  there  be  any  virtue  and 
if  there  be  any  praise,  think  on  these  things.' 

It  did  not  profess  to  be  written  for  any  but 
members  of  the  Anglican  Branch  of  the  Church  ;  it 
did  not  aim  at  anything  specially  exciting.  It  had 
no  aids  in  the  shape  of  illustrations.  But  whatever 
its  limits,  or  its  shortcomings,  the  old  Packet  will 
always  Ije  loved  by  those  who,  juonth  by  month, 
wclcomeil  it  and  made  through  it  many  dear  and 
never-to-be-forgotten  friends. 

Miss  Coleridge  and  Mr.  Innes  took  over  the 
cditorshi[)  in  18iJ0,  and,  if  there  was  a  change  in  the 
tone,  it  was  not  very  perceptible;  perhaps  it  was 
not  quite  bo  strongly  Catholic  in  tone,  perhaps 
there  was  not  much  of  the  dev(jtional  (element :  one 
could  hanlly  say.  It  seemed  all  light,  and  we  hoped 
the  <j1(1  /'(u/crt  w(niid  [)r()s[)er  in  its  bright  blue  dress 
and  its  modern  wa^  s  when,  lo !  with  no  warning, 
it  ceased  to  be. 

It  was  a  loss,  and  has  never  been  r«'[)Iaccd. 

The  oflictj  i)i  «'(iitoi-  gave  Miss  Vongc.  [)K'iity  of 
work  even  iji  early  days.  She  wriU's  lo  Miss 
Barnett : 


54  CHAELOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

'  November  (?  1850). 

*  .  .  .  You  really  must  beg,  borrow  or  steal 
something  to  help  me.  After  this  winter  I  shall 
get  on  better,  but  there  are  The  Tuo  GKaixh'ans 
and  the  Landmarks  of  History  to  finish  before  I 
can  feel  really  at  ease  in  giving  my  mind  to  this 
affair.  I  am  rather  afraid  of  spoiling  the  Land- 
viarks  by  getting  into  a  hurry.  If  you  can  send 
me  something,  I  think  we  could  meet  the  first  of 
January,  but  I  am  sure  I  cannot  single-handed.  .  .  . 
I  wish  it  had  found  a  name  ;  if  there  was  any  word 
to  express  "for  Confirmation  girls"  it  would  be  the 
thing.  .  .  .' 

We  have  said  The  Little  Duke  was  begun  in 
Vol.  I.  of  the  Monthly  Packet.  In  that  same  volume 
began  the  Castle- Builders.  This  is,  in  our  judgment, 
one  of  the  very  best  bits  of  work  Miss  Yonge  ever 
I)roduced.  The  late  Professor  Palgrave,  who  cer- 
tainly was  no  mean  critic,  was  very  fond  of  it.  It  is 
an  exquisite  little  story,  and  has  all  that  flavour  of 
refinement,  that  ethos,  which  lingered  long  around 
the  early  Tractarians,  and  of  which  we  have  spoken. 
The  motif  of  the  story,  if  we  may  use  such  a  word, 
is  the  evils  of  day-dreaming,  of  religious  emotion 
which  is  not  translated  into  action.  There  is  no 
love-story  at  all,  and  the  whole  is  an  episode  in  the 
lives  of  three  sisters. 

They,  Constance,  Emmeline,  and  Kate  Berners,  are 
Indian  children  who  have  been  sent  home  to  be 
educated.  Their  mother  has  married  again,  and 
her  husband,  Sir  Francis  Willoughby,  has  also  a  son 
by  his  first  marriage,  Frank,  who  is  about  the  same 


THE  'MONTHLY  PACKET'  55 

age  as  Enimeline  and  Kate.  Constance,  almost 
directly  after  she  left  school,  was  seen  and  beloved 
by  a  young  clergyman.  Lord  Herbert  Somers, 
younger  son  of  one  Lord  Liddersdale.  They  are 
married  before  the  return  of  the  Willoughbys,  and 
very  soon  are  obliged  to  go  abroad,  as  Lord  Herbert 
has  a  bad  breakdown  in  health.  The  story  opens  on 
the  eve  of  Emmeline's  and  Katherine's  Confirmation. 
Thoy  are  still  at  school.  Sir  Francis  and  Lady 
Willoughby  return  rather  sooner  than  they  were 
expected,  and  in  the  excitement  of  the  arrival,  and 
the  sight  of  the  two  new  brothers  and  a  new 
sister,  the  Confirmation  is  pushed  aside.  Then 
home-life  begins  for  them.  They  arc  taken  to  a 
seaside  town,  where  Sir  Francis  has  rented  a 
temporary  house,  and  all  their  fresh  aspirations 
and  longings  and  their  mistakes  are  described. 

Each  person  in  the  story  is  a  good  sketch  of 
character :  Sir  Francis,  kind-hearted,  fussy,  im- 
perious, irascible  if  provoked;  Lady  Willoughby, 
gentle,  selfish,  absolutely  worldly  and  mindless ; 
Frumeline,  dreamy,  full  of  as[)irations  and  high 
ideals,  and  as  yet  incajiablc  of  putting  them  into 
practice  ;  Kate,  more  good-natured  and  merry  than 
her  sister,  but  greatly  dependent  on  her. 

The  girls  are  eager  about  good  works,  and  fall 
into  the  hands  of  some  kind  old  ladies  who  are 
gr(;atly  prejudiced  against  the  N'icar,  who  is  start- 
ing such  innovations  as  daily  service  and  weekly 
Coniiiiunlon  (it  is  tiie  year  1<SI0).  'I'heit?  is  an 
aniusing  (iilV(;rence  b(;twcen  that  yeai-  ol"  givice  and 
the  prcscnl  one.  TIic  only  schools  in  (Ik!  town 
ai)parenlly    belonged    to    the    new    cliurches,    and 


56  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

visitors  to  one  of  them  were  freely  invited  and 
encouraged  to  take  classes,  The  new  Vicar  sternly 
discouraged  all  this. 

But  in  these  days  we  all  know  old  ladies,  kind  and 
fussy,  exact  dittoes  of  the  Miss  Shaws  of  this  book, 
very  full  of  horror  of  what  is  now  called  Ritualism, 
and  was  then  termed  Puseyism.  Emmie  and  Kate, 
indeed,  get  into  trouble  because  they  insist  on  the 
Cliurch  Catechism  being  said  by  their  pupils. 

On  the  scene  arrives  Sir  Francis's  son.  Frank  is  a 
charming  boy.  Miss  Yonge,  as  we  have  said,  had  a 
great  gift  for  describing  real  boys,  and  surely  one  of 
her  numerous  cousins  suggested  the  rosy,  sweet- 
tempered,  not  particularly  clever  but  saintly  boy. 
We  use  the  word  quite  advisedly.  Frank  appeared 
absolutely  commonplace  to  the  ordinary  observer, 
and  to  his  new  connections,  who  at  once  accepted 
him  as  a  brother,  he  was  a  complete  puzzle. 
Gradually  they  found  out  that  behind  his  unfailing 
courtesy  and  consideration,  his  thoughtfulness  for 
the  poor  little  governess,  his  unfailing  good  temper, 
was  a  deep  religious  principle. 

Frank  had  been  brought  up  by  a  brother  of  Sir 
Francis,  at  whose  Vicarage  the  boy  had  spent  his 
holidays.  In  Mr.  Willoughby  we  are  sure  Miss  Yonge 
drew  a  picture  of  some  one  of  those  holy  men  whom 
she  knew  so  well.  The  present  writer  owns  that  Mr. 
Willoughby  always  made  her  think  of  Mr.  Keble,  in 
his  simplicity,  his  learning,  his  gentleness,  his  old- 
fashioned  courtesy,  his  love  for  his  parish,  of  which 
he  had  been  the  parson  for  forty  years.  He  is  a 
delightful  man,  and  he  really  cannot  have  been  much 
more  than  fifty,  althongh  he  is  spoken  of  as  if  he 


THE  '  MONTHLY  PACKET '  57 

were  much  older,  for  twenty  years  later  he  reappears 
in  The  Pillars  of  the  House.  Miss  Yonge  was  just 
a  little  bit  apt  to  get  mixed  in  her  chronology. 

Emmie  and  Kate  are  by  this  time  rather  tired  of 
good  works,  and  have  taken  up  higher  learning  and 
culture  with  great  enthusiasm  and  some  selfish- 
ness. 

Frank  had  assimilated  his  uncle's  teaching,  and 
fully  intended  to  take  Orders.  His  father,  however, 
suddenly  announced  his  intention  of  putting  him 
into  the  Guards,  and  it  is  with  difficulty  poor  Frank 
brings  himself  to  consent.  Unfortunately,  he  has 
been  taken  away  from  school  to  prepare  for  the  army, 
and  his  practices  and  devotional  habits  cannot  1)e 
kept  quite  out  of  Sir  Francis's  sight.  The  j)oor  man 
cannot  endure  the  idea  of  a  religious  soldier,  and 
from  pettish  exclamations  proceeds  to  denunciations 
of  the  system  in  which  Frank  has  been  brought  up. 
Finally,  on  the  Feast  of  the  Annunciation,  things 
come  to  a  crisis:  Sir  Francis  tells  the  boy  to  go  back 
to  liis  uncl(%  as  he  wishes  to  have  done  with  sermons 
and  hypocrisy.  In  the  afternoon  the  girls  take 
Frank  and  their  youngest  brother  for  a  walk  on  the 
sands;  they  are  overtaken  by  the  tide,  and  are 
rescued  with  much  (lifTiculty.     Frank  is  drowned. 

The  account  of  this  tragedy  is  most  Ijeaulit'iilly 
given,  and  the  effect  on  all  the  survivors  wonderfully 
brought  out.  'i'lif  bitter  grief  of  Sir  Francis,  whicli 
passes  over  liiin  Wkv.  a  tornado,  and  leaves  him 
apj)ar<uitly  miirli  1  be  same  ;  t  lie  bracing  up  ol'  Kate 
to  seek  the  j»alli  h'raiik  bad  IrcxK.Miid  the  (ipposilo 
effect  it  pro(lii<<'<|  on  I'lninidinc,  w  lio.  li.i  \  ini;-  shirked 
all  lier  duties,  onl.>   I'ouikI  tli.it  lier  iHiios  .uid  hitler 


.58  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

grief  made  her  feel  more  dissatisfied,  unwilling  to 
undergo  the  inconvenience  of  a  new  preparation  for 
Confirmation,  and  hail  with  delight  the  prospect  of 
a  London  season.  And  again,  to  Kate's  great  sorrow, 
they  lose  the  opportunity  of  Confirmation.  In 
London  Emmie  hecomes  extremely  fascinated  by 
the  services  at  a  new  Roman  Catholic  chapel. 

Then  Herbert  Somers  breaks  in  upon  us.  Herbert 
has  almost  died  abroad,  and  his  wife,  who  is  not 
unlike  Alexandrine  de  la  Ferronay  in  some  respects, 
is  all  that  Emmcline  and  Kate  aspired  to  be.  Lord 
Herbert  has  accepted  the  living  of  Dearport,  and 
it  is  arranged  that  his  sisters-in-law  should  help 
Constance  to  settle  in.  These  two,  Herbert  and 
Constance,  are  extraordinarily  charming,  merry, 
clever,  and  endued  with  that  touch  of  romance 
which  is  the  very  flower  of  our  religion.  They  make 
light  of  all  sorts  of  disagreeables,  and  begin  to  do 
excellent  work  at  once.  Yet  they  are  not  the  least 
impossible  or  unreal.  Kate,  who  has  been  absolutely 
won  over  by  Frank's  death,  is  intensely  happy ;  but 
Emmie,  who  is  really  still  extremely  unwell,  can  only 
feel  disillusioned  by  everything.  At  last,  rather 
suddenly,  a  talk  with  Herbert  shows  her  that  it  is 
not  her  circumstances,  but  herself,  which  has  been 
to  blame.     She  has  dreamed,  not  acted. 


( (( 


I  could  not  feel  to  care  about  religion ;  I 
grew  tired  of  all  the  good  books  and  thoughts  and 
church-going.  Herbert,  don't  think  me  wicked 
for  it,  but  church-going  has  su(;h  a  sameness — not 
always  as  you  manage  the  service,  but  at  that 
chinrli  in  Loiid(jn  it  did  not  make  one  a  bit  devout. 


THE  '  MONTHLY  PACKET '  59 

Everything  is  weariness  together,  and  I  shall  feel 
so  all  my  life." 

'  "  Stop,  stop,  Enimeline !  You  have  not  let  me 
ask  you  how  it  was  that  religion  failed  as  you  say." 

' "  Because  1  must  be  too  bad  for  anything  to  do 
me  any  good,  I  suppose,"  said  Emmeline  despon- 
dently. 

' "  Hush,  Emmeline !  None  of  the  chosen  people 
of  God  have  a  right  to  speak  in  that  way.  But, 
tell  me,  what  do  you  understand  by  religion?" 

'  "  Oh,  thinking,  caring  about  holy  things,  stir- 
ring up  one's  spirit,  feeling  love   to  God — those 

kinds  of  things— ^liking  holy  things "  hesitated 

Emmeline,  somewhat  puzzled. 

'  "  There  is  the  main-spring  ;  but  that  is  but  half 
the  matter.  You  had  the  beginning,  but  what 
came  of  it?  llow  was  it  evidenced?  You  tried  to 
feel ;  what  did  you  try  to  do  ?  " 

' "  I  was  not  well ;  I  could  not  do  much,"  said 
Emmeline, 

'  "  Jiut  what  did  you  try  to  do?  Did  you  try  to 
be  more  attentive  to  the  home  duties  in  which 
you  had  fallen  short?" 

' "  I  did  not  think  that  was  it." 

'"Did  you  try  to  conquer  your  reluctance  to 
letting  Mr.  Brent  enter  into  conversation  with 
you?" 

'  "  Mamma  did  not  wish  it." 

'"  Did  you  try,  when  you  wore  taken  to  London, 
to  keep  from  I'ollowiiig  (bt;  foolisli,  nn(lt'sii;ibi(^ 
ways  of  olhcM-  people  of  your  own  Mgc,  which  you 
yourself  thought  wrong  at  first  sigiil?  ' 

'"  Do  you  iiic.iii  tbc  polka,  Herbert?" 


r»n  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

'  "  Or  tlid  you,  in  the  new  scene,  allow  yourself 
to  relax  in  the  devotional  exercises  you  had  taken 
up  ?    Don't  answer  me,  but  yourself." 

' "  I  can't  think  how  you  know  everything, 
Herbert.     But,  you  see,  religion  won't  do  for  me." 

'  "  I  don't  see  any  such  thing.  You  have  had  a 
fit  of  excitement  of  feeling,  which  has  passed  off, 
but  you  are  not  thinking  that  you  have  been 
without  religion  all  the  years  of  your  life." 

' "  Oh  no ;  but  that  is  not  what  one  means. 
That  is  too  shocking." 

' "  You  are  a  Christian.  Each  right  action  or 
feehng,  each  act  of  faith  or  prayer,  through  your 
whole  life,  have  not  they  been  fruits  of  your  bap- 
tismal grace?" 

' "  I  suppose  so ;  but  there  have  been  few 
enough  of  them." 

' "  And  do  you  think  that  is  caused  by  any  defect 
in  the  grace  then  given  you?" 

'"Oh,  no,  no!" 

'  "  But  they  have  been  passing,  fleeting,  unstable 
of  late.  You  have  had  no  rest  in  them,  no  comfort 
of  mind,  no  true  wisdom,  nor  strength ;  no  firmness, 
no  abiding  sensation  of  love  and  fear  of  God." 

'  Emmeline  gave  a  sort  of  groan,  that  showed 
that  his  words  went  home  to  her  heart. 

' "  And  you  say  it  is  the  fault  of  religion  ? 
Emmeline,  our  religion  holds  out  to  us  a  means 
of  receiving  the  strength  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  the 
Comforter,  giving  us  the  spirit  of  wisdom  and 
understanding,  the  spirit  of  counsel  and  ghostly 
strength,  the  spirit  of  knowledge  and  true  godli- 
ness, anil  the  spirit  of  God's  holy  fear." 


THE  '  MONTHLY  PACKET '  61 

' "  Confirmation ! "  said  Eninieline.  "  Oh,  Herbert, 
would  it  do  all  that  for  me  ?  I  do  believe  it  would 
be  peace  at  last." 

' "  Emmeline,  I  am  sure  it  would.  It  is  not  I 
that  tell  you  so  ;  it  is  the  i^romise  of  God  through 
His  Church." 

' "  Yes  ;  but  it  is  on  a  condition  !  How  am  I  ever 
to  fulfil  that  condition?  I  may  make  the  vow, 
and  intend  to  ]i.eep  it,  and  believe  fully,  but  the 
feeling  will  go.     I  shall  be  unsteady  again." 

' "  If  you  were  to  stand  in  your  own  strength, 
not  in  the  all-sufficient  grace,  you  would  ;  but  be- 
sides prayer,  will  there  not  then  be  open  to  j^ou 
the  especial  means  of  strengthening  and  refresh- 
ing our  souls?" 

' "  But  how  many  there  are  no  better  for  being 
confirmed !" 

'  "  How  can  we  tell  ?  They  may  be  better,  or,  if 
they  fail,  it  may  be  that  their  hearts  are  not  pre- 
pared. They  wanted  jirayer,  or  they  wanted  faith, 
or  they  were  not  in  earnest,  or  they  fell  away 
through  some  uni'osistcd  tem])tation,  n(^t  fi-om  any 
defect  in  the  Confirmation  gi-acc,  which  will  yet 
restore  many." 

'  "Then  you  think  if  we  had  been  coiifiniu'd  wo 
should  liavc  avoided  our  faults?" 

'"No,  I  say  no  sucli  thing.  I  cannot  tell  how 
you  would  have  kept  your  vow,  but  I  know  you 
would  llicn  liave  been  obedient  to  that  summons 
of  tlu^  Church  ;  the  gi',MC(i  would  have  been  given 
to  you,  /ind  if  you  li.'id  used  i(  lightly " 

'"Ah,  I  do  believe  that  it  would  have  made  a 
difi'erence.     I   know  I  sliouid  have  Ixmmi  afraid  to 


62  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

stay  away  from  the  Holy  Communion  after  your 
letter,  and  then  I  should  have  watched  myself 
more,  and  perhaps  been  saved  from  these  faults, 
though  I  never  thought  they  were  so  bad  before. 
I  knew  I  was  good  for  nothing,  but  I  could  not 
make  out  that  I  did  anything  very  wrong.  Oh,  I 
am  very  glad  we  are  to  ])e  confirmed  now !" ' 

And  Confirmation  is  at  last  bestowed  on  them, 
not  without  some  self-sacrifice  on  their  part. 

Nothing  can  be  more  delightful  than  the  account 
of  the  first  settling  in  at  Dearport,  and  all  that  Her- 
bert, his  curates,  and  Constance  found  to  do. 


CHAPTER  IV 

'THE   HEIR  OF  REDCLYFFE ' 

(1850—1854) 

It  was  the  publication  of  this  book  which  made  the 
fame  of  Charlotte  Mary  Yonge.  Miss  Yonge  herself 
tells  us,  ill  the  reminiscences  of  Mr.  Keble,  how  the 
book  arose  : 

'  In  the  May  of  1850  a  friend  (Miss  Dyson)  told 
me  there  were  two  characters  she  wanted  to  see 
brought  out  in  a  story — namely,  the  essentially 
contrite  and  the  self-satisfied.  Good  men,  wo 
agreed,  were  in  most  of  the  books  of  the  day,  sub- 
dued by  the  memory  of  some  involuntary  disaster 
— generally  the  killing  someone  out  shooting — 
whereas  the  "ponitcMicc^  of  the  saints"  was  un- 
attempted.  The  self-satisfied  hero  was  to  rate  the 
humble  one  at  still  lower  than  his  own  estimate, 
to  persecute  him,  and  never  be  undeceived  till  he 
had  caused  his  death.  This  was  the  germ  of  the 
tale,  of  which  miiu?  was  []\o,  playwright  work  ol' 
devising  action  and  narrative.  It  is  less  really  my 
own  than  the  later  ones, and  thcicfoi'e  rises  nnuh 
higlier. 

'  W(!  were  all  vciy  liapjty  over  it,;ind  Mr.  .ind 
Mrs.  Keble  showed  their  usual  patient  goodness  in 


64  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGK 

listoning  to  romaiicings  of  the  yet  unwritten  story 
and  throwing  their  interest  into  it;  then  in  reading 
and  correcting  the  MS.  As  an  instance  or  two,  in 
the  description  of  the  sunset  the  sun  had  been 
called  a  circle,  but  the  poet-hand  made  it  an  orb. 
And  when  Mr.  Edmondstone  had  called  Philip  a 
coxcomb,  Mrs.  Keble  made  the  substitute  of  a 
jackanapes.  Also,  at  first,  Philip,  in  his  solitude 
at  Redclj^e,  had  been  haunted  by  dread  of  in- 
sanity; but  this  was  altered,  because  both  the  kind 
critics  believed  it  to  be  absolutely  cruel  to  bring 
forT^^ard  that  topic  to  enhance  a  mere  fiction,  and 
they  mentioned  instances  in  which  the  suggestion 
of  the  idea  had  done  serious  harm  to  excitable 
persons  already  in  dread  of  that  visitation.  .  .  . 
Again,  he  advised  the  alteration  of  the  end  of  an 
argument  which  concluded  in  a  sarcastic  and  over- 
bearing manner,  saying :  "  I  wish  you  would  de- 
prive the  passage  of  its  triumphant  air."  In 
general,  the  pui'port  of  the  marks  was  to  guard  to 
the  utmost  both  delicacy  and  reverence.  The  very 
least  approach  to  a  careless  reference  to  Holy 
Scripture  or  that  could  connect  with  it  a  ludicrous 
idea  was  always  expunged.  I  wish  my  words  could 
do  justice  to  the  kindness  and  good  judgment  of 
both  these  dear  friends  with  regard  to  that  book.' 

Mr.  Yonge  conducted  the  arrangements  for  the 
publication,  and  as  he  evidently  had  no  idea 
how  to  manage  the  affair,  a  good  deal  of  delay 
ensued.  For  instance,  the  book,  by  Sir  John 
Coleridge's  advice,  was  first  offered  to  Mr.  Murray, 
which    seems    extraordinarily   stupid,   as    at    that 


'  THE  HEIR  OF  REDCLYFFE  '  65 

time  that  eminent  publisher  did  not  issue  works  of 
fiction. 

However,  it  was  handed  over  to  Mr.  Parker,  and 
when  it  appeared  it  had  an  undoubted  success. 

We  all  know  how  such  people  as  Burne-Jones  and 
William  Morris  loved  it,  and  that  young  men  and 
young  women  adored  it.  It  is  funny  to  find  from 
Miss  Coleridge  that  there  was  evidently  fear  on  the 
author's  side  that  the  family  circle  might  consider  it 
'  too  daring.'  It  is  a  delightful  book,  and  many  of 
us  are  fain  to  confess  to  having  read  it  at  least  a 
score  of  times. 

*  It  embodied,'  says  Miss  Coleridge,  '  the  spirit  of 
the  Oxford  Movement  in  its  purest  and  sweetest 
form.  It  is  a  delightful  picture  of  the  best  kind 
of  English  upper  middle  class  society  of  the  time, 
and  tlie  talk,  the  ideas  are  fresh  and  bright  and 
amusing.  Miss  Yonge  had  a  sense  of  humour  and 
some  power  of  irony.  It  is  almost  a  pity  these 
gifts  were  not  more  encouraged,  for  Mr.  Edmon- 
stone,  the  good-huniourud,  \vell-l)red,  rather  stupid 
.•I lid  lovabJe  father  so  easily  overborne  by  the 
righteous  i'hilip,  is  the  most  ably  drawn,  and  is 
one  of  the  most  living  of  the  people,  who  are,  how- 
ever, all  alive  and  creatures  of  flesli  ,iiid  blood.' 

But  would  Miss  Yonge  and  Mr.  Kcbie  and  Miss 
Dys(m  have  considered  this  li(3resy?  Guy  does  not 
seem  to  us  to  belong  to  the  category  of  those  who 
are  penitents  first  and  then  saints,  but  ratluu-  to  Ijo 
a  modern  Sir  Galahad,  to  be  one  of  those  who  keep 
'  the  prin(;ely  heart  of  iniirM-cnce.' 

For  (lid  he  yield   to  any  temptation?     Does  the 

5 


m  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

author  not  make  Guy  confuse  temptation  with  sin  ? 
Was  his  anger  not  the  anger  of  a  pure  and  noble 
mind  when  confronted  by  malicious  spite  ?  It  is  pos- 
sible that  if  he  had  met  Philip  the  very  moment  that 
he  had  opened  the  letter  he  might  have  sinned ;  but 
the  fact  remains  that  before  the  sun  went  down  Guy 
had  forgiven  his  enemy.  We  are  not  saying  this  is 
unreal  or  impossible — not  at  all;  only  that  Guy  ought 
not  to  have  thought  of  himself  as  unworthy  of 
Amabel,  or  have  sat  down  so  quietly  under  his 
injuries.  Why  he  did  not  seek  an  interview  with 
his  guardian  instead  of  writing,  and  how  Mr.  Ed- 
monstone  could  be  satisfied  to  let  him  go  so  easily, 
we  cannot  see;  and  beautiful  as  the  story  is,  we 
cannot  but  feel  that  all  the  fuss  about  Guy  and  his 
supposed  misdemeanours  was  a  real  storm  in  a  tea- 
cup, nor  does  it  seem  to  us  probable  that  a  man  of 
the  world,  as  Mr.  Edmonstone  must  have  been,  could 
think  a  boy  of  twenty  likely  to  have  become  a  very 
deep -dyed  villain,  or  have  thought  a  lapse  into 
extravagance — nay,  even  into  betting— an  indication 
of  hopeless  depravity. 

But  putting  this  aside,  the  story  is  most  delightful ; 
Charles,  Amy,  the  old  doctor,  Mr.  Edmonstone,  Lady 
Evelyn,  are  all  charming  people.  Philip  is  admir- 
able —  his  self  -  deceit,  his  priggishness,  his  Philis- 
tinism, all  brought  out  with  a  delightful  simplicity 
and  irony.  Amy  is  the  type  of  character  that  her 
creator  dearly  loved  :  gentle,  sweet,  apparently  weak, 
and  rising  on  occasion  to  heights  of  heroism,  of 
which  no  one  would  have  supposed  her  capable. 

It  is  a  great  blessing  that  no  continuation  of  the 
Heir  ever  saw  the  light.     Amy  and  Charles  grown 


'  THE  HEIR  OF  REDCLYFFE  '  67 

old  would  have  been  too  sad,  and  we  could  not  have 
borne  the  Nemesis  which  undoubtedly  would  have 
overtaken  Philip  and  Laura. 

Miss  Yonge  was  capable  at  times  of  real  beauty 
in  her  writing,  and  the  story  of  the  death  of  Guy,  so 
simply  told,  is  beautiful. 

And  Guy  himself  is  a  veritable  boy  of  flesh  and 
blood,  and  is  not  at  all  unreal  or  impossible.  He  is 
so  alive  that  we  feel  his  death  is  heart-rending,  he 
is  so  delicious  in  his  young  enthusiasm  and  so  un- 
touched by  the  world.  Perhaps  it  is  this  unworldli- 
ness  which  gives  the  Heir  and  one  or  two  more  of 
Miss  Yonge's  books  their  especial  charm. 

She  resembles  Scott  in  one  respect,  that  her  heroes 
are  good  men.  Sir  Walter's  heroes  are  often  sup- 
posed to  be  uninteresting,  but  some  of  them,  at  any 
rate,  do  not  deserve  this  reproach.  Henry  Morton, 
Frank  Osbaldistone,  Edmund  Tressilian,  to  take 
only  three,  are  excellent  and  delightful  young  men, 
all  virtuous  (one  of  them,  certainly,  had  fought  a 
duel)  and  brave  and  accomplished.  Guy  is  a  fitting 
companion  to  them,  with  the  additional  grace  of  an 
Oxford  training  upon  him.  It  is  a  delightful  trait 
in  Miss  Yonge  that,  unmusical  as  she  was,  she  much 
appreciated  a  gift  for  music  in  others.  Guy  loved 
music,  which  love  was  a  deadly  offence  in  the  eyes 
of  l*}iili[),  who,  as  we  have  said,  is  a  perfect  type  of 
I'liiHstiiie  l)ef()ro  Mr.  Matthew  Arnold  had  made 
I'liiliHtinism  known  to  us. 

Miss  Yonge's  lettc^rs  to  Miss  Dyson,  who  was 
known  as  Guy's  mother,  about  the  Heir  and  other 
topics  are  perfectly  (h'liglitful.  We  only  wish  there 
witvii  more  of  them.    Here  are  some  to  Miss  Barnett : 

5—2 


68  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

'June  30,  I80I. 
[The  writer  is  working  on  2'he  Heir  of  Redely ffe.] 
'  No.  III.  is  in  clover.    I  have  had  something  of 
some  sort  almost  every  day  lately,  and  am  not  at 
all  afraid  of  the  60  pages. 

'.  .  .  Sir  Guy  Morville  considers  himself  much 
honoured  by  your  invitation,  and  as  much  as  there 
is  or  will  be  by  that  time  of  him  shall  attend  you. 
It  will  be  a  real  kindness  to  take  him  out  of  my 
reach,  for  he  is  such  jjleasant  work  as  to  spoil  me 
for  more  regular  business,  but  there  is  such  a 
quantity  of  him  all  uncondensed  and  untrimmed 
that  I  am  afraid  you  will  repent.  I  hope  you  have 
not  told  INIrs.  Butler  the  story  beforehand,  for  I 
want  much  to  know  the  sort  of  impression  the 
story  makes  on  a  new  person,  and  whether  Philip 
is  hated  as  much  as  by  those  who  know  how  he  is 
to  end.' 

'  As  for  Guy,  he  is  seeking  his  fortune  in  London, 
and  I  expect  every  day  to  hear  of  his  fate,  so  I 
hope  it  may  not  be  long  before  he  comes  forth  to 
all  the  world.  He  thanks  you  and  Mrs.  Butler  for 
kindly  inviting  him.  I  don't  think  it  will  be  quite 
as  much  of  a  "  Bustle  "*  book  as  erst,  for  the  last 
critical  reading  decided  that  there  was  rather  too 
much  Bustle,  and  he  has  been  a  little  curtailed.' 

'  I  am  glad  Mrs.  Butler  does  not  feel  like  one  of 
our  neighbours,  who  complained  that  she  never 
would  have  read  the  book  if  she  had  known  what 
it  was  coming   to.     I   have  had  a  great  deal  of 

*  Guy's  dog. 


'THE  HEIR  OF  REDCLYFFE'  G9 

pleasure  out  of  it,  I  nuist  say,  and  it  has  been  very 
amusing  to  hear  the  different  views  that  people 
have  taken  of  Pliilip. 

'  Now  about  Violet  [Heartsease].  She  is  much 
obliged  and  honoured  by  your  inA'itation,  but  I 
wanted  to  tell  you  the  state  of  the  case.  .  .  .  She 
is  in  a  very  unfit  state  for  being  seen.  .  .  .  My 
opinion  is  that  she  is  in  great  danger  of  being 
long  and  stupid,  and  I  am  trying  to  condense  her.' 

Another  letter  says  : 

'  Thank  you,  1  have  seen  the  Times.  Sir  William 
Heathcote  told  me  there  was  such  an  article  [a 
i-eview  of  The  Heir  of  Jledchjffe],  but  he  had  not  had 
time  to  read  it,  so  I  had  to  wait  till  morning  in 
doubt  Avhether  it  would  be  a  knock-down  one,  and 
it  was  rather  a  relief  that  it  was  not  all  abuse.  It 
is  very  amusing  to  see  how  Miss  Wellwood*  comes 
in  for  exactly  the  s;ime  al>use  as  if  she  was  alive, 
and  with  the  same  discrimination  as  to  facts.  It 
seems  to  me  exactly  the  world's  judgment  of  Guy 
and  Philip — loving  Guy  and  not  imderstanding 
him,  and  symj)athi/ing  with  Pliilip  as  more  com- 
prehensible. However,  Marianne's  sont  cannot 
be  dislikeui,  in  spite  of  his  ])iinciples — a  great 
triumj)!)  for  her.* 

It  is  vci-y  lu"l|)riil  to  all  wlio  have  had  any  lit cr.iiy 
succcHs  to  rca<l  of  tli<!  calm,  nplifting  achict!  giscn 
by  Ml-.  KcbN'.      \\i'  was  her  spiiitiial  guide.     \Vc  do 

*  MisH  Wellwood  \v;is  lluj  lady  wiioiii  (Iiiy  wauled  to  aid  in 
foiimiiii^c  a  Mish-rliood. 

t  Miss  Dyson  was  always  known  as  '(iiiy's  nioliier,'  as  liic  liist 
idea  ol  the  story  canio  from  lier. 


70  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

not  know  if  she  had  yet  begun  what  she  did  in 
time  practise  under  his  direction — Sacramental  Con- 
fession. To  her  he  spoke  of  what  a  successful 
book  might  be — '  the  trial  of  one's  life.'  She  writes 
herself : 

'  It  was  in  the  course  of  the  summer  of  1854  that 
the  book,  of  which  I  have  already  said  too  much, 
attained  its  chief  popularity,  and  showed  me  how 
little  Mr.  Keble  cared  for  worldly  estimation.  Not 
that  one  word  of  depreciation  or  want  of  sympathy 
was  said.  Far  from  it.  He  enjoyed — nay,  took  a 
kind  pride  in — its  success ;  but  when  I  came  to 
him  alarmed  at  my  own  sense  of  vainglory,  he 
told  me  "  a  successful  book  might  be  the  trial  of 
one's  life " ;  showed  me  how  work  (even  of  this 
sort)  might  be  dedicated ;  how,  whenever  it  was 
possible,  I  could  explain  how  the  real  pith  of  the 
work  came  from  another  mind  ;  and  dismissed  me 
with  the  concluding  words  of  the  90th  Psalm  (the 
which  has  most  thankfully,  I  own,  so  far  been 
realized). 

'  And  when,  in  spite  of  all  this,  he  saw  me  eager 
to  see  some  "  opinion  of  the  press,"  he  smiled,  and 
said  :  "  Oh,  you  care  for  such  things."  Though  I 
know  he  perfectly  entered  into  the  value  of  a 
sound  criticism  examining  into  a  matter,  a  mere 
puff  was  nothing  at  all  to  him ;  and  as  to  works 
of  his  own,  I  verily  believe  he  much  preferred 
hearing  nothing  a})out  them.  Forcing  praise  upon 
a  person  he  considered  as  unkind,  in  the  truest 
sense  of  the  word,  since  where  it  was  not  painful 
it  must  be  hurtful.     By  praise,  however,  I  do  not 


'THE  HEIR  OF  REDCLYFFE '  71 

mean  approbation,  which  his  soul  never  stinted ; 
in  fact,  he  was  often  quite  enthusiastically  carried 
away  by  admiration  of  anything  he  thought 
excellent  or  containing  the  merest  germ  of  ex- 
cellence.' 

About  this  time  were  begun  the  Landmarks  in 
History,  and  those  who  have  been  made  in  their 
youth  to  read  them  will  know  something  of  the 
salient  points  of  European  history. 

The  weak  point  of  all  her  histories  is  a  certain 
confusion  of  style  and  an  enormous  number  of 
proper  names  ;  but  for  all  that  they  are  good  books, 
and  are  adapted  to  lay  a  foundation  of  historical 
knowledge  which  seems  so  often  strangely  neg- 
lected. 

Another  book  was  begun  in  these  early  fifties,  one 
not  less,  probal^ly  even  more,  a  power  for  good  than 
The  Heir  of  liedchjjfe — The  Daisy  Chain. 

In  some  ways  this  is  the  very  best  of  all  Miss 
Yonge's  books.  Dr.  May,  the  father  of  the  May 
family,  is  a  real  creation.  He  is,  of  all  her  many 
most  living  characters,  the  most  alive ;  he  is  so 
human,  so  thorough  an  Englishman  of  the  best 
kind,  of  honourable  family  of  the  u])pcr  middle 
class,  of  good  education,  possessing  cultivated  tastes  ; 
a  man  most  loving,  tcndcf-licai-tcd,  chivalrons,  and 
quick-t(!nii)err'd,  who,  sti'ickcn  to  tli(!  gi'oiind  by  a 
terrible  sorrow,  rises  through  it,  and  by  it,  to  real 
solf-fonqursf ,  to  heights  of  goodness  and  of  self- 
denial,  'riicfc  is  no  ono  in  all  the  long  series  of 
Miss  Yonge's  cliaraclc^'s  whom  soiuf^  of  ns  long  more 
to  meet  tlum  (ic.ir  Di-.  Hidmnl  May.     All  tlie  May 


CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 


family  are  delightful.  And  Ethel— so  much  has 
been  said  of  her  that  it  seems  almost  needless  to 
write  anything  of  the  girl  Avho  has  inspired  so  many 
of  us  to  work  for  the  Church. 

In  this  most  delightful  book  occur  some  of  Miss 
Yonge's  best  bits  of  schoolboy  life.  Norman,  Harry, 
Tom,  are  all  typical  boys.  Norman  is,  we  suppose, 
hardly  less  a  favourite  than  Ethel.  Perhaps  many 
lovers  of  The  Daisy  Chain  hardly  do  justice  to  Mar- 
garet, who.  Miss  Coleridge  tells  us,  was  at  first  the 
author's  chief  interest.  Margaret  is  a  most  beautiful 
character;  she  is  called  to  bear  a  veritable  mar- 
tyrdom, and  she  does  not  fail.  Everyone  is  interest- 
ing in  this  book  :  the  sailor  lover  (the  pathetic  story 
of  Alan  Ernescliife  and  of  Margaret  is  simpl)^  and 
beautifully  told),  the  delightful  sailor  brother,  the 
masters  at  the  school,  the  rather  slow  and  unin- 
tellectual  Richard  May,  so  good  and  unselfish.  Flora, 
the  second  daughter,  is  a  study  of  the  character  which 
Miss  Yonge  most  cordially  disliked,  the  person  who 
is  worldly  in  a  perfectly  unobtrusive  and  estimable 
way.  Flora  is  dreadfully  punished  for  sins  which 
were  indeed  sins,  and  very  soon  cured ;  but  if  she 
had  been  as  thoroughly  given  over  to  the  world  as 
Miss  Yonge  believed  she  was,  poor  Flora's  sorrows 
would  not  have  cured  her.  She  was  pathetically 
young — only  about  twenty-four — when  she  repented, 
and  we  really  think  Miss  Yonge  was  inclined  to 
tliink  too  hardly  of  her. 

We  have  said  something  of  one  love-story  in  this 
book ;  all  the  love-making  is  so  charmingly  de- 
scribed— the  perfect  marriage  of  Dr.  and  Mrs.  May, 
broken  so  suddenly,  so  tragically,  the  romantic  little 


'  THE  HEIR  OF  REDCLYFFE  '  73 

love-story  of  Norman  May  and  Meta  Rivers,  that 
dainty  little  fairy  like  person. 

One  great  enthusiasm  of  Miss  Yonge's  appears 
now— Foreign  Mission  Avork.  A  connection  of  hers 
whose  biography  twenty  years  later  she  was  called 
to  write,  John  Coleridge  Patteson — known  to  her 
and  to  all  his  family  as  '  Coley ' — had  gone  out  with 
Bishop  Selwyn  to  New  Zealand  and  the  Islands  of 
the  Sea,  and  it  was  to  those  regions  Miss  Yonge 
sent  Norman  May  and  his  Meta,  to  that  mission  for 
which  she  herself  cared  and  worked  and  gave  her 
best. 

There  are  some  Oxford  scenes,  and  some  hints  are 
given  of  the  stress  and  strain  which  so  many  of  the 
best  of  Oxford  felt  in  those  years  after  the  dis- 
appearance of  Newman. 

The  Daisy  ('hain,  in  our  opinion,  is  as  fresh  and 
(b'licious  as  when  it  delighted  people  in  the  fifties. 
There  are  not  many  old-fashioned  episodes.  The 
horror  of  Miss  Winter,  the  very  prim  governess, 
at  the  thought  of  a  'gentleman'  walking  with  the 
girls  of  the  May  family,  is  perhaps  the  only  o])isode 
which  reminds  us  that  ''tis  sixty  years'  since  the 
Mays  gathered  in  the  schoolroom  for  their  last 
reading  with  their  mother,  in  the  opening  chapter, 
except,  indeed,  thai  the  family  never  needed  any 
chang(?  of  air,  never  seemed  to  go  away  sinii)Iy 
for  health's  sake,  and  very  rarely  for  jiny  other 
reason.  And  they  dined  in  the  middle  ol"  lli<^ 
d.-iy! 

'/'Ar  hdisij  ('hdiii  W'.'is  l)e;_^illi  in  (lie  Moiil/i/i/  /*<l(hrl 
in  IS.")  I.  1)1  it  Olds  i';iit  I.  .-I  |i|»i';i  red  llicre.  .'ind  it  w.'is 
not  piddi'-lied  in  hook   loiiii  initil   |Sr»((. 


74  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGB 

T^Hcartsease;  or,  The  Brothers  Wife,  came  out  in 
1854.  Probably  most  of  Miss  Yonge's  lovers  would 
say  that  these  three  books — The  Heir  of  Redely ffe, 
The  Daisy  Chain,  and  Heartsease — are  the  best  of 
the  tales  of  contemporary  life.  Charles  Kingsley, 
indeed,  preferred  Heartsease  to  the  Heir,  Miss  Yonge 
writes  in  1855.  It  is  a  very  clever  story,  and  the 
heroine,  Violet,  is  one  of  those  developing  charac- 
ters who  out  of  weakness  wax  strong,  whom  Miss 
Yonge  so  much  loved.  Again,  in  this  book  the 
characters  are  very  much  alive,  and  we  meet  with 
some  extremely  disagreeable  i3eople.  The  old  aunt, 
Mrs.  Nesbit,  is  quite  a  wicked  old  woman.  Miss 
Yonge  herself  records  that  Mr.  Keble  restrained  her 
once  or  twice. 

'The  chief  alteration  I  remember  was  that  a 
sentence  was  erased  as  "  coarse,"  in  which  Theo- 
dora said  she  really  had  a  heart,  though  some 
people  thought  it  was  only  a  machine  for  pump- 
ing blood.  Meeting  the  same  expression  in 
another  book  recalled  to  me  the  scrupulous  re- 
finement of  Hursley.' 

Heaj^tsease  is  still  very  fresh  and  charming,  and 
has  a  good  deal  of  knowledge  of  the  world,  as  the 
world  appears  to  a  lady  Avho  met  it  in  cultivated 
and  well-born  circles.  There  is  just  a  slight  and 
very  distant  knowledge  of  evil,  and  the  declension 
of  Arthur  is  quite  natural.  Not  quite  so  probable 
is  his  rapid  refonnation.  The  book  is  in  some 
respects  an  advance  on  The  Heir  of  Redely  ffe,  and 
deserves  to  be  read  even  in  this  century. 


'THE  HEIR  OF  REDCLYFFE'  75 

Miss  Yonge  writes  in  1855  : 

'  Mamma  told  you  of  the  wonderful  d^but  of 
Violet.  I  only  wonder  whether  she  will  thrive  as 
well  when  the  critics  have  set  their  claws  on  her ; 
the  home  critics  are  very  amusing  in  their  variety 
and  "  characteristicalness  "  (there's  a  word  !). 

'My  Colonel  corresijondent  complains  of  the 
babies.  .  .  .  Sir  W.  Heathcote  says  the  will  [Mrs. 
Nesbit's,  the  wicked  aunt's,  we  suppose]  would  not 
stand  ;  Judge  Coleridge  falls  foul  of  the  geography 
of  the  Lakes  ;  and  so  on. 

'Most  people  say  they  think  others  will  like  it 
as  well  as  Guy,  though  they  don't  themselves,  and 
some  few  prefer  it.  It  does  want  papa  very  much ; 
but,  then,  he  did  set  it  going,  and  there  is  mamma 
to  gloat  over  it.' 

Mr.  Yonge  died  suddenly  early  in  1854,  just  as  his 
only  boy  was  starting  for  the  Crimea  ;  and  in  the 
rec(jllections  so  often  quoted  in  this  book  Miss  Yonge 
writes : 

'It  would  be  vain  to  tell  what  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Keblc  were  to  us  in  those  hours  of  affliction — how 
they  came  to  us  in  tlie  cold  of  a  February  Sunday 
evening  (no  trifle  for  /ter),  shared,  soothed,  ele- 
vated our  grief;  were  all  that  the  dearest  could 
be,  and  never  left  us  till  our  relations  were  with 
us;  then,  with  tender  Hyjii|).*i1hy,  hc^lpod  to  ])ear 
us  up  tliioiigli  tb(i  long  months  of  anxiety  that 
ensued.' 

Aft(M-  Mr.  Yonge's  death  Miss  Yonge  writes  to 
Miss  Bajnett : 


76  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

'Dear,  good  old  Slave, 

'  How  nice  and  kind  and  understanding 
your  letter  was,  and  how  thankful  one  should  be 
for  such  friends !  .  .  . 

'The  worst  will  be  over  when  we  hear  from 
Jvilian,  j)Oor  boy !  Till  then  it  seems  like  bearing 
the  first  stroke.  But  I  am  sure  it  fell  mercifully 
as  far  as  we  were  concerned,  and  the  flow  of  feel- 
ings that  meet  us  from  all  is  very  gratifying. 

'  1  believe  my  uncle,  always  living  in  his  own 
town  far  off,  had  no  notion  of  the  estimation  in 
which  his  brother  was  held. 

' .  .  .  I  know  I  shall  miss  him  more  when  he  has 
been  away  longer.' 

We  think  an  extract  from  one  of  Mrs.  Yonge's 
letters  may  well  come  in  here.  She  was  always  full 
of  interest  and  enthusiasm  about  Charlotte.  Writing 
to  Miss  Barnett  a  few  months  after  Mr.  Yonge's 
death,  she  says : 

'  I  think  she  [Charlotte]  is  the  one  person  who 
has  more  pleasure  from  her  books  than  I  have. 
We  never  tire  of  talking  of  them  before  they  are 
written,  and  correcting  the  MS.  and  the  proofs. 
1  have  just  read  the  first  volume  of  Guy  again, 
but  cannot  venture  upon  the  second.  My  thank- 
fulness increases,  I  think,  that  Charlotte's  guide 
was  spared  to  her  till  the  dangers  from  a  first 
success  were  over.  I  do  not  see  that  she  loses  her 
unself-consciousness,  and  if  there  is  danger  we 
have  Mr.  Keble.  .  .  .' 

The  little  glimpses   we  get   from    Mrs.   Yonge's 


'THE  HEIR  OF  REDCLYFFE'  77 

letters  show  us  the  sweet,  loyal  natures  of  both 
mother  and  daughter,  and  the  absolute  sjonpathy 
which  had  grown  up  between  them. 

The  delight  in  Charlotte's  doings  never  grew  less 
as  long  as  health  and  life  were  spared  to  the 
mother. 


CHAPTER  V 

'CONVERSATIONS  ON  THE  CATECHISM '—' DYNEVOR 
terrace' — A  VISIT  TO  IRELAND 

(1855—1858) 

There  were  many  months  of  anxiety  for  Charlotte 
and  her  mother  after  the  irreparable  loss;  but  in 
time  the  brother  returned,  in  bad  health  indeed,  but 
safe,  from  the  Crimea,  and,  as  he  recovered,  there 
was  much  happiness  in  their  daily  life.  The  large 
family  of  Moberlys  at  Winchester  were  an  increasing 
joy  to  her.  Indeed,  they  are  said  to  have  suggested 
the  Mays,  and,  oddly  enough,  some  of  the  events  in 
the  family  at  Stoneborough  seem  to  have  been  un- 
conscious prophecies  of  similar  occurrences  to  the 
Moberlys — such  as  the  winning  of  the  Newdigate, 
and  one  or  two  other  episodes. 

And  there  was  the  great  joy  of  meeting  Bishop 
Selwyn  at  Winchester,  and  in  a  delightful  letter  to 
Miss  Dyson,  which  is  given  in  Miss  Coleridge's  Life, 
she  describes  the  enthusiasm  she  felt  and  the  joy  it 
was  to  her  to  meet  the  hero  Bishop.  Her  account  of 
great  old  Warden  Barter's  speech  reminds  us  of  the 
description  in  The  Daisy  Chain  of  the  8.P.G.  meeting 
at  Stoneborough,  and  of  Norman  May's  speech. 

In  a  footnote  to  Bishop  Patteson's  Life,  Miss  Yonge 

78 


'CONVERSATIONS  ON  THE  CATECHISM'  79 

writes  that  the  means  for  the  Southern  Cross,  Bishop 
Selwyn's  missionary  ship,  had  been  raised — 

'  partly  thus.  My  mother  had  always  been  eagerly 
interested  in  the  mission,  and  when,  on  the 
day  of  my  father's  funeral,  something  brought 
before  her  the  request  for  the  vessel,  she  said  to 
Mrs.  Keble  how  much  she  should  like  to  see  the 
sum  raised  by  contributions  from  those  who  liked 
The  Heir  of  Redely ffe,  then  in  its  first  flush  of  suc- 
cess. Mrs.  Keble,  pleased  to  see  that  anything 
could  interest  her,  warmly  took  up  the  idea,  other 
friends  joined,  and  by  their  great  kindness  a  sum 
was  raised  sufficient  to  be  at  least  worth  present- 
ing to  the  Bishop  by  the  hands  of  a  little  three- 
year-old  girl,  just  able  to  know  that  she  had  seen 
"man"  and  given  him  letter,  though  only  able 
later  to  value  his  blessing.' 

This  was  done  in  Warden  Barter's  garden  on  the 
afternoon  of  the  day  of  the  meeting. 

As  time  went  on, Miss  Yonge  seems  to  have  enjoyed 
the  county  society  around  very  much,  and  the  next 
few  years  must  have  been  happy  ones  in  the  full 
tide  of  work  and  of  interests. 

The  Conversations  on  the  Catechism  were  put 
together  in  1858,  and  their  author  mucli  wished  Mi-. 
Keble  to  write  a  preface  for  them.  In  a  letter  given 
in  her  Recollections  he  gently  refuses,  telling  lier  that 
this  'is  not  an  unknown  little  bird  waiting  to  be 
jerked  out  of  the  nest,"  and  t li.it  it  is  undesirable  to 
let  people  think  or  say  (as  thoy  are  too  likely  to  do) 
that   this  is  only  Mr.  Keble  speaking  with  .'inother 


80  CHAKLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

voice,  and  that  he  had  not  seen  as  a  critic  the  whole 
of  it.     Miss  Yonge  says  : 

'  I  never  quite  knew  what  he  meant  by  his  not 
having  read  the  whole  as  a  critic — either  he  forgot 
how  much  he  had  read,  or  he  had  kept  himself 
from  touching  anything  that  did  not  strike  him  as 
a  positive  eiror  in  fact  or  doctrine.  I  incline  to 
this  latter  opinion,  from  what  he  says  of  inde- 
pendent testimony.  He  certainly  did  not  give 
advice  as  to  the  general  plan  or  subjects;  all  he  did 
was  to  read  the  proofs  and  mark  what  was  wrong, 
or  when  I  was  in  a  difficulty  help  mo  out  by  lend- 
ing books,  or  consulting  them  when  the  point 
turned  upon  Greek  or  Hebrew.''' 

He  had  given  her  one  piece  of  advice  which  cer- 
tainly would  not  be  needed  nowadays  :  '  It  occurred 
to  me  whether,  when  the  ladies  quote  Greek,  they 
had  not  better  say  they  have  heard  their  fathers  and 
brothers  say  things.' 

These  Conversations  are  extraordinarily  good. 
One  might  wish  to  alter  an  expression  here  and  there 
—for,  naturally,  in  1851-1858  people  were  still  feeling 
their  way — but  what  one  really  wishes  is  addition 
rather  than  omission.  They  are  full  of  the  most 
excellent  teaching,  and  might  be  used  by  mothers 
still,  especially  if  they  could  be  re-edited  and  con- 
densed. The  three  Maries — Audrey  Mary,  Helena 
Mary,  and  Mary — who  gather  round  theii'  godmother, 
are  representatives  of  the  three  classes  Miss  Yonge 

*  Gleanings  from  Thirty  Years'  Intercourse  with  the  Rev.  John 
Keble,  p.  xxviii. 


'CONVERSATIONS  ON  THE  CATECHISM'  81 

knew  so  well — the  county  family,  the  country  clergy, 
the  respectable  farmers.  They  are  all  very  individual 
in  their  characters,  and  very  attractive  in  their 
girlish  ways. 

Perhaps  a  quotation  or  two  will  show  how  very 
good  the  teaching  is.  Speaking  of  idolatry,  she  says, 
explaining  '  Put  my  whole  trust  in  Him,'  that  people, 
w^omen  especially,  may  be  led  away  by  the  temper 
of  idolatry. 

'  Miss  O.  Yes,  that  is  one  branch ;  the  other  I 
meant  is  the  temper  that  enables  women  to  be  led 
captive.  I  did  not  so  much,  at  that  moment,  mean 
over-love  as  over-trust.  I  mean,  that  we  had 
often  rather  shape  our  views  of  right  and  wrong, 
and  guide  our  actions,  by  the  counsel  of  someone 
we  look  up  to,  than  by  the  rule  of  God's  law. 

'Audrey.  But  I  thought  it  was  right  not  to  be 
self-reliant,  and  that  wo  ought  to  be;  guided. 

'  Afiss  ().  So  we  ought,  to  a  certain  point,  but  our 
guides  are  but  men.  There  is  no  safety  in  giving 
the  ichole  keci)ing  of  our  conscience  to  another. 
Our  rul<^  of  liglit  and  wrong,  and  out-  doctrine, 
must  be  what  Scripture  and  our  own  Ciiuich  teach 
us,  not  merely  what  an  individual  or  a  few  indi- 
viduals may  say.  We  must  hav(;  an  external 
standard. 

*  Aiulrt'ij.  An<l  that  niusl  he  (he  l»ihle  ;ni(l 
Prayer  I'ook. 

'Miss  ()....  I'>nt  husiasiM,  wln'ii  krpi  within 
bounds,  is  a  fechng  given,  I  do  hchCve,  to  (piicken 
Iov«'  to  (fod  and  our  neiglihonr,  and  to  l)econie  zeal 
for  all   that    is  «-xre||«'nt  ;  hut    if  unguarded   it    Ijc- 


82  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

conios  an  idolatry.  This  sort  of  which  you  spoke, 
which  I  think  our  Lord  forbade  in  the  words,  "Call 
no  man  father  on  earth,  for  One  is  your  Father," 
has  been  the  means  of  leading  many  and  many 
awaj^  from  our  Church  on  one  side  or  the  other, 
and  often,  as  it  seems,  through  their  best  feelings. 

'  A  udrey.  Their  love  of  goodness,  and  honour  to 
their  pastor,  and  desire  for  guidance. 

'  Miss  O.  I  was  once  struck  with  the  words  that 
desire  for  guidance  becomes  a  snare  where  God 
has  not  vouchsafed  it.  To  make  God  and  His  law 
the  first,  and  ever  to  watch  for  His  invisible  hand 
working  through  the  visible,  to  listen  to  His  voice 
through  the  audible  calls  to  good,  to  seek  only  His 
service,  to  call  upon  Him  alone  at  every  hour,  to 
keep  His  Presence  and  His  Mediation  ever  in  our 
ininds,  is  the  only  guard  from  creature-worship  in 
any  form,  the  only  hope  when  in  the  hovir  of  death 
and  day  of  judgment  all  creatures  shall  fail  us, 
and  we  shall  be  face  to  face  with  Him  alone.' 

Of  course,  part  of  Miss  Yonge's  advice  about 
attendance  at  Holy  Communion  and  on  other  points 
Avould  not  find  favour  with  some  of  us  now.  But 
all  her  teaching  as  to  the  doctrine  of  the  Sacraments 
is  admirable.  She  constantly  refers  to  the  Fathers 
and  the  best  Anglican  divines. 

Dynevor  Terrace,  which  came  out  in  1857,  has 
a  delightful  hero,  Louis,  and  a  provokingly  good 
heroine.  Here  again  is  the  situation  of  a  child's 
obedience  strained  to  the  utmost  point.  Louis 
and  Mary  are  really  too  submissive  to  the  un- 
worthy father  of  the  latter,   and,   although  it  all 


'DYNEVOR  TERRACE'  83 

comes  right  in  the  end,  vre  cannot  see  that  Mary 
took  a  right  view  of  conflicting  duties. 

Much  more  natural  people  are  Louis's  fiery  cousin 
Jem  and  his  dreamy,  beautiful  wife,  who  is  roused 
by  poverty  and  trials,  and  becomes  a  real  helimiate 
to  her  hiisband,  Mrs.  Frost,  Jem's  grandmother,  is 
very  delightful,  but  we  cannot  feel  she  is  as  living 
and  original  as  Dr.  May,  with  whom  Miss  Coleridge 
compares  her. 

It  is  a  ver}'  delightful  l^ook  to  real  lovers  of  Miss 
Yonge,  not  so  much  l^ecause  of  the  story,  but  because 
Louis  himself  and  his  tomboy  cousin  Clara,  and  Jem 
and  Mrs.  Fi-ost,  are  such  charming  people. 

In  a  letter  to  Miss  Barnett,  Miss  Yonge  discusses 
the  pet  name  of  '  Delionnaire  '  as  applied  to  Louis. 

'  The  folk  bore,'  she  writes, '  are  quite  on  my  side 
about  "  Debonnaire."  In  the  fii'st  place,  the  King 
was  so  called  as  synonymous  with  Pious,  according 
to  Sismondi,  and  the  ])rop('r  original  meaning  of 
this  word  seems  to  have  been  "  gi'acious,"  in  wliich 
sense  it  is  constantly  applied  to  tlie  best  of  the 
knights.  Modern  French  has  debased  it,  and  given 
it  of  lat(5  the  sense  of  weakness.  ...     In  lOnglisii 

it  decidcMlly  means  givieeful Johnson  calls  it 

elegant,  civil,  wcll-hicd,  and  no  (lonl)l  it  was  such 
in  th<^  c!ii\  alfoiis  \  <t(al)ulai"y.  Now,  this  was  just 
what  I  wanted  ;  il"  it  had  no  foolish  sense  i(  would 
\)i:  Hat  t  cry.  .   .   .' 

Miss  Yongo  again  brings  out  li<i-  l'a\  omitc  idi-a  ol" 
.M  weak  chai-aclei-  gradually  (h'veh  >|(ing  under  tin; 
influence's  of  I'ight  pr-inciples.  lionis,  howevei',  was 
(.iidy  liovish  and  iinlonnfd  when  we  lirsf    nuM't    him. 

0-2 


84  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

and  had  just  the  qualities  and  gifts  suited  to  provoke 
his  father,  than  whom  Miss  Yonge  never  drew  a 
more  pei-f  ect  picture  of  a  i^erf  ectly  upright,  excellent, 
narrow-minded  and  prejudiced  British  nobleman. 

Certainly  there  is  one  point  which  strikes  a  reader 
of  these  earlier  novels  of  society  of  Miss  Yonge.  A 
great  deal  more  was  expected  in  the  way  of  sense 
and  powers  of  judgment  from  the  young  man  and 
woman  of,  say,  seventeen  or  eighteen  in  tliose  early 
nineteenth-century  days  than  seems  to  be  demanded 
now.  Our  boys  and  girls  are  decidedly  younger  than 
they  used  to  be,  and  we  are  not  sure  that  this  is 
a  change  altogether  for  the  worse.  Certainly  no 
modern  father  would  be  so  hard  on  his  son's  exces- 
sively harmless  vagaries  as  was  Lord  Ormesfield 
on  Louis.  There  is  a  good  deal  of  humour  in  both 
Louis  and  in  his  great-aunt,  Mrs,  Frost, 

Miss  Yonge  went  to  Dublin  in  1857  to  be  brides- 
maid to  her  cousin.  Miss  Colborne,  now  Lady  Mont- 
gomery Moore.    She  writes  to  Miss  Barnett : 

'  Royal  Hospital,  Dublin, 
'  September  2^,  1857. 

'  The  place  we  are  in  is  a  sight  in  itself — an  old 
house  of  the  Knight  Hospitallers,  which  the  great 
Ormond  converted  into  an  Irish  Chelsea  [Hospital], 
making  the  Commander  of  the  Forces  the  Master. 
It  is  built  round  a  quadrangle,  with  a  cloister,  a 
chapel,  and  great  hall,  all  in  Louis  XIV.  style  .  .  . 
this  house  occupying  one  side,  with  the  hall  and 
chapel,  the  house  of  the  Chaplain,  and  some  of  the 
staff,  and  the  old  pensioners.  ...  It  is  very 
military  church-going    ,   .    .   sitting  in  a  hideous 


A  VISIT  TO  IRELAND  85 

gallery  looking  down  on  them  [the  Lancers]. 
The  pensioners  are  chiefly  R.C.,  so  that  there  is  a 
very  small  show  of  them  at  church.  ...  It  was 
a  beautiful  scene  in  the  great  oaken  hall,  with 
Lord  Seaton's  grand  figure  walking  uj)  and  down 
...  all  that  he  ever  was  in  activity,  and  alertness, 
and  memory. 

'The  Church  matters  are  wonderfully  lax,  as 
might  be  expected,  the  Irish  Church  hardly  pro- 
fessing to  believe  in  the  Church.  .  .  .  Kneeling 
appears  to  be  unknown.  I  have  seen  no  provision 
for  it  except  in  the  gallery  here  and  in  a  beautiful 
church  built  by  Mr.  Sidney  Herbert,  to  which  we 
went  yesterday  afternoon. 

'  Lord  Seaton  was  so  kind  as  to  give  us  ...  a 
field-day  in  Phcenix  Park.  Only  think  of  being 
regaled  with  four  regiments  of  infantry,  three  of 
cavalry,  and  a  jiroportion  of  artillery,  and  on  a 
sunshiny  day  of  Irish  winds,  with  the  lieautoous 
park  for  the  scene  and  the  Wicklow  Hills  as  back- 
ground. .  .  .  We  had  no  visible  enemy,  but  we 
HufTcrc'd  a  repulse  in  spite  of  a  ])rilliant  charge  of 
the  ijanccrs  and  Scots  Greys,  but  it  was  all  to  get 
us  homo  to  luncheon.' 


CHAPTER  VI 

LIFE  AT   ELDERFIELD— '  THE   YOUNG    STEPMOTHER' — 

'THE  TRIAL,'  AND   OTHER  BOOKS 

(1858— 18G6) 

Another  change  came  into  Miss  Yonge's  life  in  1858. 
Her  brother,  Juhan  Yonge,  married,  and  dehghted  as 
Charlotte  was  to  have  a  sister,  and,  in  time,  nephews 
and  nieces,  Mrs.  Yonge  and  Charlotte  wisely  deter- 
mined to  move  from  Otterbourne  House  and  take 
up  their  abode  at  a  cottage  very  near  their  old  home 
— Elderfield  Cottage,  as  it  then  was.  In  this  long, 
low  house  with  a  pleasant  garden,  both  mother  and 
daughter  lived  for  the  rest  of  their  respective  lives. 

In  a  perfectly  charming  letter  to  Miss  Barnett, 
Miss  Yonge  describes  her  brother's  wedding — how 
pretty  the  bride  was,  how  joyous  she  herself  felt : 
'I  am  sure  I  felt  all  the  time  as  if  I  were  being 
married  to  her  just  as  much  as  Julian.' 

No  sister  could  have  been  found  more  loyal  and 
true  and  unselfish  than  was  Charlotte  Yonge.  She 
was  childlike  in  her  gladness ;  she  was  one  of  those 
X>eoiile  whose  best  and  noblest  qualities  are  seen 
best  in  their  relations  with  their  nearest  and  dearest. 

In  this  letter  there  is  an  amusing  quotation  from 
a  review,  which  says  : 

86 


LIFE  AT  ELDERFIELD  87 

'Miss  Sewell  upheld  baptismal  regeneration  in 
Amy  Herbert,  and  mild  stupidity  in  Ursula,  and 
Miss  Yonge  has  turned  from  the  contemplation  of 
the  corporal  works  of  mercy  to  that  of  the  virtues 
of  a  hereditary  aristocracy  *  (we  suppose  in 
Dynevor  Terrace). 

Eldei-field  is  almost  on  the  road  between  Win- 
chester and  Southampton,  but  this  was  no  draw- 
back, quite  the  contrary,  in  those  thrice-blessed 
years  before  motor-cars  destroyed  country  life  and 
gardens,  and  peace  and  quiet  for  simple  people 
whose  chief  desire  is  to  stay  in  pleasant  places  when 
they  get  to  them.  Mercifully,  Miss  Yonge  never  saw 
the  change  which  motors  have  produced,  and 
Otterbourne  was  in  her  time  the  quiet,  peaceful 
little  hamlet  it  had  always  been,  with  fields  and 
dells  where  daffodils  and  cowslips  grew.  She  had 
an  intense  pleasure  in  common  everyday  sights,  to 
which  her  books  bear  witness;  she  loved  botany, 
and  the  little  book  reprinted  from  the  Magazine  for 
the  Kojo/f/ tcslifiod  to  her  knowledge.  Then  slie  had 
the  great  pleasure  of  her  school-children.  Every 
day  she  went  up  to  the  school  and  gave  a  lesson  in 
Scripture  to  boys  or  girls,  and  on  other  subjects  at 
times. 

Writing  froiri  Puslindi  in  Se[)tember,  1859,  she 
speaks  of  her  lioiiu;  in  that  place: 

'  It  is  nin(i  Nc.'irs  since  I  Imd  been  licre.  .  .  .  All 
is  nimli  Iln'  s.'inic,  ;in<l  I  be  \n;i\s  of  the  lumsc, 
sounds  and  si^^Jit s,  waijvs  .■ind  elm rt-ii -going,  iwv  all 
unalleT'od.  And  t  here  is  a  11  <  lie  exceeding  pl(\*isure 
of    the    old    leiiH^,    the    pla\i"nl    liall"   leasing  and 


SS  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

scolding,  and  being  set  down  for  nonsense,  and,  oh, 
above  all.  Uncle  Yonge — having  more  of  the  father 
to  me  than  any  one  could  have,  though  very,  very 
different — bvit  to  him  Papa  looked  up,  and  of  him 
I  used  to  be  more  afraid  than  anyone ;  and  this 
makes  it  the  most  pleasant  thing  to  be  with  him, 
and  get  the  kind,  merry  words  that  are  more  to 
"  William's  daughter  "  than  to  anything  else,  not 
at  all  to  the  authoress,  for  it  [her  fame  ?]  is  rather 
a  joke  here.  He  has  some  elements  of  Humfrey* 
in  him,  chiefly  the  kindly  (common  sense,  and  the 
sense  of  duty  which  is  indeed  a  good  heritage. 
But  it  is  the  first  time  I  ever  saw  his  grey  head 
here  without  the  other  silver  head  that  used  to 
be  inseparable  from  it.  I  have  often  been  here 
without  Mamma,  but  never  without  Papa,  and 
you  know  how  to  him  Devon  was  like  a  school- 
boy's home,  and  we  used  to  be  so  very  happy 
together.  .  .  . 

'  I  have  left  all  work  behind,  and  feel  as  if  I  were 
living  my  own  life  instead  of  that  of  my  people, 
and  being  the  old  original  Charlotte  instead  of 
Miss  Yonge.' 

And  on  her  return  home  she  writes : 

'  That  visit  was  on  the  whole  so  delicious,  and 
leaves  such  a  sunny  impression  on  my  mind,  that 
it  is  strange  to  remember  the  spots  of  yearning 
recollection  and  the  great  pang  of  going  away.  Not 
that  I  was  not  glad  to  get  back  .  .  .  but  when  one 
looked  back  to  the  last  time  of  parting  in  the  full 
hope  of  being  together  the  next  year,  and  remem- 

*  'J'lie  Squire  in  Hopes  and  Fears, 


LIFE  AT  ELDERFIELD  89 

bered  that  nine  such  years  passed  before  the  next 
visit,  and  that  it  was  with  two  such  gaps,  one's 
heart  could  not  but  sink.  But  it  was  a  happy  time 
and  a  reassuring  one,  for  I  set  out  with  a  sense 
that  "winds  had  rent  my  sheltering  bowers," 
knowing  that  my  uncle  had  had  a  good  deal  of 
illness  .  .  .  but  when  I  got  there  it  was  so  like  old 
times,  and  Uncle  Yonge  so  bright  and  well  and 
exactly  like  his  old  self,  that  it  was  quite  a  happy 
surprise,  and,  whatever  happens,  the  recollection 
of  that  visit  will  have  been  a  gain.' 

Miss  Yonge  went  sometimes  to  London,  and  she 
was  beginning  to  form  friendships  with  a  younger 
generation  of  girls,  of  whom  the  most  distinguished 
was  Miss  Christabel  Coleridge, her  future  biographer, 
herself  the  author,  in  later  years,  of  many  delightful 
stories. 

Sir  John  Taylor  Coleridge's  elder  daughter,  Mary, 
was  one  of  Cliarlotte  Yongo's  most  intimate  friends 
(all  the  letters  to  her  from  Miss  Yonge  have  been 
destroyed),  and  it  occurred  to  Miss  Coleridge  that  a 
number  of  clever  and  eager  girls  wore  growing  up 
who  needed  some  iiitelUictual  stimulus.  It  was 
agreed  to  form  a  sort  of  society,  and  that  '  Cousin 
Charlotte '  should  be  the  liead.  She  chose  the  name 
'  Mot  \n'r  (»()()s('  to  her  (jl(jslings.'  Four  qutjstions  wore 
set  evoi'y  mont  li.aiid  the  best  s(^l  of  answers  travcllcMl 
roiuid  ;  and  there  was  als(^  a  manuscript  magazine. 
The  liariKirh.  Miss  Coleridge's  account  of  this  is 
d(!ligb(fiil  f«)  th(>H<!  who  n^alize  wliaf.  they  would 
ha\«^  gi\<'n  to  he  .MiMong  ( lios(^  (loshiigs.  Not  oidy 
Miss  Colfiidj^M-,  l)ut    Miss   I'caitl  and  Miss    l''lor('ii<'o 


90  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

Wilford,  who  both  became  writers  of  stories,  were 
among  the  Goslings,  and  many  another  whose  name 
became  known  in  other  connections.  In  time  the 
society  became  merged  in  '  Arachne  and  her  Spiders ' 
in  the  Monthly  Packet. 

Miss  Coleridge  tells  us  of  a  meeting  of  the  Goslings 
and  Mother  Goose  in  Sir  John  Duke  Coleridge's 
house  in  1862.  Miss  Yongc  at  that  time  must  have 
been  strikingly  handsome  with  her  dark  sparkling 
eyes  and  beautiful  white  hair.  The  portrait  of  her 
in  the  Life,  from  a  photograph  by  Bassano,  shows  a 
face  at  once  strong  and  sweet,  with  a  good  deal  of 
resemblance  to  her  father's. 

Hopes  and  Fears  came  out  in  1860.  We  think  Miss 
Yonge  must  have  grown  fond  of  the  family  of  Ful- 
morts,  who  are  the  heroes  and  heroines  of  what  one 
might  call  the  subsidiary  plot  of  the  story.  The 
Fulmorts  reappear  more  than  once.  There  are  really 
two  stories  in  this  novel,  which  cross  and  intercross, 
and  there  is  an  evident  moral  intended— the  evils  of 
idolatry  in  affection.  The  heroine  who  is  supposed 
to  illustrate  this  story  is  so  sweet  and  lovable  a 
creature  in  her  youth  that  it  is  difficult  to  conceive 
her  growing  into  the  rather  tiresome  spinster  she 
undoubtedly  became.  The  naughty  girl  of  the  tale, 
Lucilla,  is  an  illustration  of  the  change  which  has 
come  over  our  manners.  One  of  Lucy's  worst  offences 
is  a  tour  in  company  with  a  cousin — a  girl  verging 
on  the  thirties — in  Ireland.  The  impropriety  of  what 
would  nowadays  be  a  perfectly  commonplace  journey 
is  much  insisted  on.  Lucy  loses  her  lover,  Robert 
Fulmort,  and  he  devotes  himself  and  his  fortune  to 
the  building  of  church,  schools,  clergy-house,  and 


'THE  YOUNG  STEPMOTHER'  91 

choir-school  in  a  slum  which  the  distillery  owned  by 
his  father  and  elder  brother  had  not  improved. 
Perhaps  the  newly-built  S.  Barnabas',  Pinilico,  sug- 
gested this  idea;  or  All  Saints',  Margaret  Street :  for 
there  were  springing  up  in  London  at  that  time 
those  wondei-ful  churches  which  did  so  much,  and 
are  doing  so  much,  to  spread  the  Faith  whole  and 
undefiled.  S.  Barnabas',  Pinilico  ;  All  Saints',  Mar- 
garet Street ;  S.  Peter's,  London  Docks ;  S.  Alban's, 
Hollwrn;  Christ  Church,  Albany  Street;  S.  Mary 
Magdalene,  Munster  Square — all  these  were  com- 
paratively new  in  these  early  sixties,  and  more  than 
once  we  find  them  mentioned  in  the  Monthly  Packet, 
or  allusions  to  them  in  Miss  Yonge's  stories.  The 
great  Sisterhoods  were  in  their  very  early  beginnings, 
and  we  shall  see  how  the  idea  of  the  Religious  Life 
was  welcomed  ])y  her.  Accovints  of  their  work,  and 
allusions  to  them,  arc  found  in  the  same  way. 

To  return  to  Hopes  and  Fears,  which  is  perhaps  the 
least  attractive  of  those  stories  of  modern  life  which 
we  should  group  in  a  second  class.  To  the  first 
belong  7'he  Heir  of  Uedeli/ffe,  Ifvartseasc,  and  The 
Daisy  Chain.  In  the  second  W(^  should  ])ut  Dyuevor 
Terrace,  Hopes  and  Fears,  The  Youiu/  Stepmother,  ivnd 
The  Clever  Woman  of  the  Family.  The  Younc/  Step- 
mother is  to  our  thinking  a  far  better  stoiy  than 
Hopes  and  Fears.  No  less  a  person  than  Tennyson 
rea<l  it  witli  |)lcasui-(',an<l  (lie  (lui/.ol  faiuiiy  liked  i( 
nuicli. 

I'dinyson  is  (jesciihed  li\'  M  i\  I'algraN'e  as  reading 
in  bed  one  of  Miss  ^'onge's  deservedly  |io|»ular  tales, 
whci'ein  a  heading  element  is  I  he  deferiiul  ( 'onlinna- 
tion  of  a  grown-U})  person.     'On  Tennyson  icad  lill 


92  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

I  heard   him   cry   with   satisfaction,   "  I  see  land ! 

Mr. is  just  going  to  be  confirmed,"  after  whicli 

darkness  and  slumber.' 

The  Confirmation  was  not  really  one  of  the  chief 
events  of  the  story, but  evidently  Miss  Yonge  thought 
it  might  provoke  comment.  She  writes  to  Miss 
Barnett :  '  Tell  me  what  people  say  to  Mr.  Kendal's 
Confirmation.  I  want  to  know  how  it  strikes  the 
world.' 

Albinia  Kendal,  the  stepmother,  is  one  of  the  most 
absolutely  delightful  women  of  all  Miss  Yonge's 
heroines,  and  although  her  stepchildren  are  each  in 
his  or  her  different  way  most  horrid  little  speci- 
mens, they  are  very  cleverly  drawn  and  developed. 
The  Crimean  War  comes  into  this  story,  and  the 
description  of  the  death  of  Gilbert,  Albinia's  only 
stepson,  is  as  pathetic  and  vivid  a  bit  of  writing 
as  Miss  Yonge  ever  produced. 

Albinia's  own  child,  Maurice,  is  as  natural  and 
naughty  as  could  be  wished,  and  there  are  pleasant 
sketches  of  slighter  characters,  and  some  rather 
good  and  satirical  descriptions  of  the  humours  of  a 
country  town. 

Another  charming  story  reprinted  from  the  Maga- 
zine for  the  Young  appeared  in  book  form  in  1861 — 
The  Stokesley  Secret.  The  family  described  therein, 
the  Merrifields,  reappears  very  often,  and  Hal,  the 
very  naughty  boy  of  the  story,  comes  to  a  bad  end, 
as  is  set  forth  in  a  later  book,  where  he  is  made 
almost  to  marry  the  scapegrace  girl  of  The  Pillars  of 
the  House.    She  just  escapes  this  fate. 

The  Merrifields  are  excellently  described,  and 
come  out  as  photographic   representations   of  the 


'THE  TRIAL,'  AND  OTHER  BOOKS        93 

generally  worthy  and  nearly  always  dull  English 
county  family.  It  is  really  quite  sad  that  the 
Merrifields  -were  allowed  to  fall  off  as  they  grew  old. 
Those  of  them  ^vho  are  respectable — and  there  is 
only  one  who  is  not — become  so  dull,  so  limited  and 
Philistine,  that  we  wish  Miss  Yonge  had  left  them 
where  they  were  at  the  end  of  The  Stokesley 
Secret. 

Miss  Yonge's  letters  are  full  of  allusion  to  the 
books  she  was  reading  ;  in  one  she  writes : 

'We  have  just  finished  Dr.  Livingstone,  noble 
man  that  he  is ;  all  that  one  can  wish  is  that 
he  knew  what  the  Church  meant.  The  grand 
simplicity  of  his  courage  and  endurance  is  most 
magnificent.  I  am  sure  England  has  not  come  to 
degeneracy  yet.' 

The  Trial  ran  through  the  Monthly  Packet  of  18G8 
and  1864,  and  came  out  in  book  form  at  once.  The 
manuscript  relating  to  Leonard  Ward's  prison  life 
was  the  last  Miss  Yonge  ever  submitted  to  Mr.  Keble, 
and  she  tells  us  how  he  made  her  soften  the  details 
of  the  effect  on  the  mind  of  prison  life. 

Of  this  book  Mr.  Henry  Sidgwick  says,  in  a  letter 
to  Mr.  Roden  Noel : 

'There  is  a  now  stoiy  l)y  the  authoress  of  The 
Heir  of  Redely ffr  whidi  I  have  read  with  all  my 
old  enthusiasm.  I  thought  it  was  quite  gone  off, 
but  I  can't  get  The  7 rial  out  of  my  head.  Did  you 
ever  read  Madame  Bovary,  a  Frencih  novel  l)y 
Flaubert?  It  is  very  powerful,  and  Miss  Yonge 
rennndsme  of  it  by  forcf^  of  contrnsl.  It  (Icsciibcs 
1h;u    the    terrible    ennui    of    mciin    French    lurnl 


94  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

domestic  life  drags  down  tlie  soul  of  an  ambitious 
woman,  whereas  Miss  Yongc  makes  one  feel  how 
full  of  interest  the  narrowest  sphere  of  life  is. 

'  I  think  her  religion  is  charming,  and  it  mellows 
with  age ;  the  dpre  Puseyism  wears  off.'* 

Certainly,  Dr.  May  and  '  le  docteur  Bovary '  have 
not  a  great  deal  in  common. 

One  wonders  where  '  cqDve  Puseyism '  comes  out. 
Perhaps  in  The  Two  Guardians,  where  one  guardian 
of  a  youthful  owner  of  an  estate  disputes  with  his 
co-trustee  as  to  the  possibility  of  letting  a  farm  to  a 
Dissenter;  or  perhaps  in  the  earliest  of  all  the  stories, 
where  we  saw  that  attendance  at  a  Mechanics'  In- 
stitute was  esteemed  a  gross  impropriety. 

The  Trial  brings  before  us  most  of  our  old  friends 
of  The  Daisy  Chain.  Dr.  May  is  as  admirable  as 
ever,  mellowed  of  course,  but  just  as  charming  and 
headlong,  and  the  little  jars  between  him  and  Tom, 
and  their  gradual  drawing  together,  are  very  clever 
bits  of  character  study. 

The  tragedy  is  well  conceived,  and  Leonard  is  very 
living ;  we  are  most  thankful  he  is  allowed  to  go  on 
his  way  in  peace  and  become  a  missionary  in  the 
South  Sea  Islands,  and  is  not  sent  home  again  in  a 
later  book.  He  is  just  nientioned  in  The  Pillars  of  the 
House,  and  he  does  appear  for  a  moment  in  her  last 
book.  It  is  in  The  Trial,  we  think,  Miss  Yonge  first 
mentions  Sisters  of  Mercy  ;  two  come  to  the  rescue 
of  Stoneborough  dui-ing  a  scarlet  fever  epidemic. 
They  were  brought  by  Dr.  May's  dear  friend.  Dr. 
Spencer,    another  admirably    described    physician, 

*  Life  oj'  Henry  Sidgwick,  p.  109. 


'THE  trial;  and  other  books         95 

quite  distinct  from,  and  absolutely  unlike,  Dr.  May, 
just  a  little  bit  abead  of  bim  in  Cburcb  views  and 
scientific  knowledge  alike. 

Some  of  the  readers  of  tbe  story  seem  to  have 
been  very  odd  people.    Miss  Yonge  writes  : 

'I  find  most  people  grumble  at  Leonard's  not 
being  liung  '  [most  of  us  would  never  have  forgiven 
her  if  she  had  allowed  him  to  be  executed],  '  but  I 
mean  to  make  much  more  of  him.' 

Ethel  is  our  Ethel,  only  at  twenty -nine  she 
seems  very  much  the  middle-aged  spinster,  which 
she  would  not  be  now.  There  is  a  very  pretty, 
delicately-told  romance  concerning  Ethel :  Leonard 
Ward  has  an  adoration  for  her,  absolutely  of  the 
chivalrous  kind.  What  she  teaches  him  in  the  many 
readings  and  discussions  which  she,  her  young 
l)r(>thcr  Aubrey,  and  Leonard  shared  in  the  course 
of  a  long  summer  lioliday  which  they  silent  together, 
was  his  stay  during  the  awful  time  of  his  trial 
and  three  years'  inii)risonment. 

It  is  to  her  that  lie  (nvcs  liis  missionary  aspirations, 
wliich  are  strangely  fiilUllcd  when  he  comes  out, 
his  innocence  established  and  all  his  life  before  him, 
for  he  was  only  eighteen  when  his  life  seemed  to  be 
wrecked.  Tin;  bo^s  and  Etlu^l  have  read  Mdrjuion 
togc^tlicr  in  that  holiday,  and  on  liis  rctui'ii  to 
freedom  litliel  could  not  ludp  rei)eatiiig  the  long- 
trcasiii'cd  lines:  'And,  Ijconni-d, 

'  "  .    .    .    ^ric\c  not  fur  tliy  woes, 
Di-'j^^raiT  and  troiililc  ; 
l'"or  He  wlio  lioiioiir  l)c--t  Ix-sfows 
.Shall  ^ivc  lllff  ilniililr."  ' 


96  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

' "  I've  never  ceased  to  be  glad  yovi  read  Marmion 
with  nie,"  he  hastily  said,  as  they  turned  into 
church  on  hearing  a  clattering  of  choristers  behind 
him. 

'Clara  might  have  had  such  sensations  when 
she  bound  the  spurs  on  her  knight's  heels ;  yet 
even  she  could  hardly  have  had  so  i^urc,  unselfish, 
and  exquisite  a  joy  as  Ethel's,  in  receiving  the 
pupil  who  had  been  in  a  far  different  school  from 
hers. 

'  The  grey  dawn  through  the  bloom,  the  depths 
of  shadow  in  the  twilight  church,  softening  and 
rendering  all  more  solemn  and  mysterious,  were 
more  in  accordance  than  bright  and  beamy  sun- 
shine with  her  subdued,  grave  thankfulness  ;  and 
there  was  something  suitable  in  the  fewness  of 
the  congregation  that  had  gathered  in  the  Lady 
Chapel — so  few  that  there  was  no  room  for  shy- 
ness either  in  or  for  him  who  was  again  taking 
his  place  there,  with  steady,  composed  demeanour, 
its  stillness  concealing  so  much. 

'Ethel  had  reckoned  on  the  verse,  "That  He 
might  hear  the  mournings  of  such  as  are  in 
captivity,  and  deliver  the  children  appointed  unto 
death."  But  she  had  not  reckoned  on  its  falling 
on  her  ears  in  the  deep,  full-toned,  melodious  bass 
that  came  in,  giving  body  to  the  young  notes  of 
the  choristers — a  voice  so  altered  and  mellowed 
since  she  last  had  heard  it,  that  it  made  her  look 
across  in  doubt,  and  recognize,  in  the  uplifted 
face,  that  here  indeed  the  freed  captive  was  at 
home  and  lifted  above  himself. 

'  When  the  clause,  in  the  Litany,  for  all  prisoners 


'THE  trial;  and  other  books        97 

and  captives  brought  to  her  the  thrill  that  she  had 
only  to  look  up  to  see  the  fulfilment  of  many  and 
many  a  prayer  for  one  captive,  for  once  she  did  not 
hear  the  response,  only  saAv  the  bent  head,  as 
though  there  were  thoughts  that  went  too  deep 
to  find  voice." 

Miss  Yonge  writes  to  a  daughter  of  Dean  Butler : 

*  A  sort  of  notion  of  locating  a  story  at  Market 
Stoneborough  had  made  us  look  up  the  Mays  and 
find  out  what  they  are  doing  now. 

'Blanche  and  Hector  are  just  married,  and 
Aubrey,  having  jiroved  too  delicate  for  Eton,  is 
Ethel's  faithful  pupil  still,  and  Flora's  house  is 
very  well  managed,  but  so  stupid,  and  Mary  is 
mairied  to  a  clergyman. 

'I  have  changed  the  cart  accident  into  Dickie 
tumbling  off  the  Minster  tower  on  the  roof,  when 
he  slid  down  on  a  sk^^light  and  stuck,  till  Leonard 
got  him  down  and  stopped  the  bleeding  from  a 
terrible  cut  in  the  leg.' 

Later  on,  when  Leonard's  plans  are  matured,  and 
they  are  speaking  of  Dickie,  Norman  May's  boy, 
whose  life  Leonard  has  saved,  Ethel  says  : 

'"Ah,  papa  is  always  t(^lling  him  that  theycnn't 
get  on  in  N(!\v  Zealand  f'oi-  want  ol"  a  small  ai'ch- 
deacon.and  that,  I  re;ill\  tliiiik,,'ibashes  him  more 
than  anything  else." 

'"He  is  not  forward — he  is  only  sensible."  snid 
Leonard,  on  whose  hc.'irt  Dickie  lind  far  too  fast  a 
hold  for  even  tliis  slight  dispaiagement  not  to  be 
rebnlted.     '"  I  liad  forgotten  what  a  child  eon  Id  he 

7 


98  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

till  I  was  with  him ;  I  felt  like  a  stock  or  a  stone 
among  you  all." 

'Ethel  smiled.  "I  was  nearly  giving  you 
Marmio7i,  in  remembrance  of  old  times  on  the 
night  of  the  Christmas-tree,"  she  said  ;  "  but  I  did 
not  feel  as  if  the  '  giving  double '  for  all  your  care 
and  trouble  had  begun." 

'"The  heart  to  feel  it  so  was  not  come,"  said 
Leonard.  "Now,  since  I  have  grasped  this  hope 
of  making  known  to  others  the  way  to  that  grace 
that  held  me  up  " — he  paused  with  excess  of  feel- 
ing— '  all  has  been  joy,  even  in  the  recollection  of 
the  darkest  days.  Mr.  Wilmot's  words  come  back 
now,  that  it  may  all  have  been  training  for  my 
Master's  work.  Even  the  manual  labour  may 
have  been  my  preparation."  His  eyes  brightened, 
and  he  was,  indeed,  more  like  the  eager,  hopeful 
youth  she  remembered  than  she  had  ever  hoped 
to  see  him ;  but  this  brightness  was  the  flash  of 
steel,  tried,  strengthened,  and  refined  in  the  fire — 
a  brightness  that  might  well  be  trusted. 

'  "  One  knew  it  must  be  so,"  was  all  she  could  say. 

' "  Yes,  yes,"  he  said  eagerly.  "  You  sent  me 
words  of  greeting  that  held  up  my  faith;  and, 
above  all,  when  Ave  read  those  books  at  Coombe, 
you  put  the  key  of  comfort  in  my  hand,  and  I 
never  quite  lost  it.  Miss  May,"  he  added,  as  Dr. 
May's  latchkey  was  heard  in  the  front  door,  "  if 
ever  I  come  to  any  good,  I  owe  it  to  you." 

'  And  that  was  the  result  of  the  boy's  romance.' 

The  Trial,  w^hich  many  of  us  love  with  a  good  deal 
of  the  love  we  gave  to  the  Heir  and  to  The  Daisy 


'THE  trial;  and  other  books        99 

Chain,  brings  out  how  ideal,  how  beautiful,  are  the 
relations  between  Dr.  May  and  Ethel.  Nowhere  in 
fiction  is  that  relation  of  widowed  father  and  the 
special  home  daughter  more  winningly  described. 
We  know  Dr.  May  must  be  with  his  wife  and  Mar- 
garet now,  and  we  can  only  hope  Ethelred  has  joined 
them,  for  we  cannot  picture  her  without  her  father. 

The  Clever  Woman  of  the  Family  came  out  in  1SG5 
as  a  book ;  it  did  not  run  through  the  Packet.  This 
is,  in  our  judgment,  almost  Miss  Yonge's  cleverest 
book ;  not  the  most  chai-ming  by  anj^  means,  but  dis- 
tinctly able  and  amusing.  She  betrays  more  humour 
in  this  than  in  any  other  book.  The  iioor  clever 
woman,  Rachel,  is  not  at  all  clever  in  reality,  in 
some  ways  extraordinarily  stupid,  and  Miss  Yonge 
has  been  quite  merciless  in  showing  up  all  her  follies 
and  lier  abru])t,  disagreeable  manner.  Side  by  side 
is  the  charming,  the  really  gifted  woman  Ermine; 
in  fact,  the  })ook  is  not  an  attack  on  clever  women 
or  writing  women,  or  women  who  do  anything  at 
all  wortli  doing,  l)ut  on  presumption,  overmuch  talk, 
and  silly  ccmtempt  for  authoiity.  Tlie  story  is  not 
at  all  an  attempt  to  prove  that  women  were  never 
to  venture  out  of  the  beaten  tracks. 

Lady  Temple,  the  youthful  widow  and  mother  of 
seven  unruly  childr(ui,at  the  mature  age  of  twenty- 
five  was  supi)osed  to  be  absolutely  helpless,  and  her 
cousin  Rachel  determines  to  be  her  good  angel  and 
maTiage  Ium*  l)oys  foi"  her.  Tlie  l)()ys  ure  pei'fectly 
docile  and  obedient  wit  b  t  lieii'  luol  liei-,jmd  hopelessly 
ii.'Uiglity  with  Ifuebel  ;  )  lien  I  lie  ("le\  ei- W'nmnii  falls 
in  with  otk;  Mauleverer,  who  leads  her  to  bolievc!  he 
lias   been   [)rcvente<l  by  iiitell(!ctual  scruples    from 

7-2 


100  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

taking  Orders.  The  way  in  which  Rachel  flies  to 
conclusions,  and  the  way  Manleverer  leads  her  on, 
are  most  cleverly  shown  up.  Rachel,  who  is  an 
heiress,  is  much  harassed  by  the  evils  of  lace-making, 
and  is  led  into  setting  np  a  home  for  some  orphans 
in  an  adjacent  town,  where,  instead  of  lace-making, 
they  are  taught  wood-engraving ;  they  are  put 
under  the  charge  of  a  widow  whom  Mauleverer 
introduces  to  Rachel,  and  in  due  time  produce  two 
woodcuts. 

'  They  were  entitled  "  The  Free  Maids  that  weave 
their  Thread  with  Bones,"  and  one  called  "  The 
Ideal "  represented  a  latticed  cottage  window, 
with  roses,  honeysuckles,  cat,  beehives,  and  all  con- 
ventional rural  delights,  around  a  pretty  maiden 
singing  at  her  lace  pillow  ;  while  the  other,  yclept 
"  The  Real,"  showed  a  den  of  thin,  wizened,  half- 
starved  girls,  cramjied  over  their  cushions  in  a 
lace  school.  The  design  was  Mr.  Mauleverer's,  the 
execution  the  children's ;  and,  neatly  mounted  on 
cards,  the  performance  did  them  great  credit.' 

When  Rachel  shows  the  woodcuts  to  some  friends, 
a  certain  Captain  Keith  throws  doubt  on  their  being 
woodcuts  at  all,  and  promises,  if  he  cannot  prove  his 
words,  to  subscribe  to  the  enterprise.  A  few  days 
later  he  succeeds. 

Lady  Temple,  who  is  supposed  to  be  so  timid  and 
helpless,  makes  a  raid  on  the  home,  and  finds  that 
the  children,  w^hom  she  contrives  to  see  alone,  are 
starved  and  beaten  and  made  to  work  at  lace- 
making  '  more  than  ever  we  did  at  home,  day  and 
night ;  and  if  we  don't  she  takes  the  stick.' 


'THE  trial;  and  other  books      101 

Lady  Temple  carries  off  the  two  children ;  one  is 
sickening  with  diphtheria,  which  she  communi- 
cates to  the  Temple  boys  and  to  Rachel. 

Mauleverer  and  the  widow  are  both  tried  at  the 
assizes,  but  poor  Rachel,  as  a  friend  remarks,  '  has 
managed  so  sweetly  that  they  might  just  as  well  try 
her  as  him  for  obtaining  money  on  false  pretences ; 
and  the  man  seems  to  have  been  Avonderfully  sharp 
in  avoiding  committing  himself.' 

The  widow,  who  turns  out  to  be  no  widow  at  all, 
and  whose  child  is  Mauleverer  s,  is  sentenced  to  three 
years'  imprisonment,  but  Mauleverer  has  to  be  ac- 
quitted. Fortunately,  he  has  been  recognized  as  one 
Maddox,  who  has  committed  frauds,  the  story  of 
which  is  another  part  of  this  history,  so  he  does  not 
escape ;  and  Rachel,  after  suffering  intensely  in  body 
and  mind,  marries,  to  the  unbounded  astonishment  of 
everyone.  Captain  Keith,  whom  in  early  days  she 
had  taken  to  task  for  lack  of  a  belief  in  heroism,  and 
to  whom  sIk;  had  narrated  his  own  exploit  at  the 
siege  of  Delhi,  as  it  had  been  told  her  without  any 
name  being  given.  She  adds  that  the  hero  was  killed. 
She  docs  not  discover  her  mistake  for  a  long  time. 

There  is  much  more  in  the  book  which  is  most 
deliglitful  :  the  story  of  the  faithful  love  of  Colonel 
Keith  and  the  ?-eaZ  Clever  Woman,  Ermine  Williams. 
There  is  another  of  Miss  Yonge's  worldly  women, 
Bessie  Keilh,  ('.iplain  Keith's  sister.  She  is  nuich 
mor<!  roiix  iiiciii^r  fJian  most  of  these  unworthy  per- 
sons, ;in(l  iiiiicli  more  deserving  of  blame;  infact.sho 
is  very  ."ibly  dcsciibed.  Foi-  absolute!  cUn'cn-ness,  for 
v.'iricty  of  cliaracU'r.-ind  clever  tMlk.llic  l)<)ok  stands 
out  among  all  Miss  Yonge's  tales,  and  is  far  ahead  of 


102  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

any,  except  perhaps  the  stories  we  have  named  as 
belonging  to  the  first  class. 

There  is  an  allusion  to  it  in  one  of  her  letters  to 
Miss  Barnett : 

'  I  have  been  entreated  to  send  Dr.  May  to  cure 

her  [Ermine,  the  lame  heroine],  but  I  think  that 

would  be  past  even  his  capacities ! 

'There  is    no   heart-breaking  about   him   [the 

Colonel] ;  with  Rachel,  she  had  made  up  her  mind 

to  immolate  her  affections  at  the  shrine  of  her 

asylum  before  she  found  out  that  she  was  in  no 

danger.     Now  I  believe  in  her.' 


JOHN    KKBLE. 
After  the  painting  by  G.  Richmond. 


To/uce  page  103. 


CHAPTER  VII 

MR.   KEBLE'S  death — THE  HISTORICAL  TALES — 
BISHOP  PATTESON 

(186(5—1874) 

In  the  early  spring  of  1866  Mr.  Keble  died,  and  his 
wife  followed  him  in  forty  days. 

To  Miss  Yonge  this  must  have  been  one  of  the 
great  sorrows  of  her  life,  but  in  all  she  says  of  it 
there  is  the  note  of  thankfulness. 

'  It  was  the  one  briglit,  beautiful  day  of  a  cold, 
wet  spring,  and  the  celandines  spread  and  glis- 
tened like  stars  round  the  grave  where  we  laid 
him,  and  bade  him  our  last  "God  be  Avith  you" 
witli  the  2.'ir(l  Psalm,  and  went  homo,  hoping  that 
he  would  not  blame  us  for  irreverence  for  llunking 
of  him  in  W(jrds  applied  to  the  first  saint  wlio  bore 
his  name:  "  He  was  a  burning  and  a  shining  light, 
and  ye  were  willing  for  a  season  to  rejoice  in  bis 
ligbt.'" 

It  is  b.ndiv  |»()-:-^il)|('  lo  dwell  loo  miu'li  on  \\  bat 
{]}('.  bJMiik  in  li<i-  life,  must  have  been,  llv.v  moth(M''s 
healtb  also  began  to  fail,  and  tbest^  must  hav<;  been 
Had  years,  Mi-s.  Yonge  died  in  lH(hS,  and  (Jbarlotto 
was  alone;  1  lie  widowhood  of  (  he  mmiariied  woman, 


104  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

of  wliicli  she  speaks  in  Hopes  and  Fears,  came  on 
her,  but  she  was  brave  and  unselfish,  and  began  her 
Avork  again. 

To  this  period  belong  her  three  chief  historical 
stories — llie  Dove  in  the  Eagles  Nest,  The  Chaplet  of 
Pearls,  The  Caged  Lion.  The  first  of  these  is  on  a 
very  high  level  indeed,  and  the  Chaplet  hardly  less 
so.  The  story  of  the  burgher  maiden,  Christina 
Sorel,  carried  off  by  her  father,  who  was  in  the  pay 
of  a  lawless  German  Baron,  to  tend  the  sickly  little 
daughter  of  the  Baron,  is  a  lovely  idyll.  Christina 
has  been  brought  up  by  her  uncle,  a  wealthy  citizen 
and  skilled  carver  of  Ulm,  and  she  is  refined  and 
cultivated  to  an  uncommon  degree.  She  appears 
among  the  rough  inhabitants  of  the  castle  as  some- 
thing beyond  their  ken,  and  she  manages  to  bring 
the  poor  little  sickly  maiden  to  grasp  the  meaning 
of  the  simple  truths  Christina  taught  her. 

Christina  fancied  that  when  the  snow  melted, 
Ermentrude's  soul  Av^ould  pass  away.  And  so  it  came 
to  pass.  The  young  Baron  is  prevailed  on  to  fetch  a 
j)riest,  for,  as  the  elder  Baron  has  been  excommuni- 
cated, a  priest  is  seldom  seen  in  the  castle. 

'  On  the  white  masses  of  vapour  that  floated  on 
the  opposite  side  of  the  mountain  was  traced  a 
gigantic  shadoANy  t)utline  of  a  hermit,  with  head 
bent  eagerly  foi'ward  and  arm  outstretched. 

'The  monk  crossed  himself.  Eberhard  stood 
still  for  a  moment,  and  then  said  hoarsely :  "  The 
Blessed  Friedmund  !  He  is  come  for  her";  then 
strode  on  towards  the  postern  gate,  followed  by 
Brother  Norbert,  a  good  deal  reassured.' 


THE  HISTORICAL  TALES  105 

But  Christina  is  loved  by  the  young  Baron,  and 
in  time  he  wins  her  to  be  his  wife.  He  is  supposed 
to  have  been  killed  in  a  skirmish,  and  Christina  is 
left  with  twin  boys  and  tlie  Baron's  fierce  old  mother, 
who  dies  in  a  few  years.  The  story  of  the  upbring- 
ing of  the  boys,  of  their  visit  to  Ulm,  of  the  hero  of 
romance,  Maximilian,  and,  finally,  of  the  death  of 
Friedel,  the  younger  twin,  in  a  skirmish,  is  perfect. 
Friedel  comes  to  give  water  to  the  foe  of  their  house- 
hold, Schlangenwakl,  and  the  Count  tells  him  that 
his  father  is  a  Turkish  slave,  and  shoots  Friedel. 
Ebbo,  the  elder  boy,  is  left,  and  suddenly  his  father 
returns.  He  had  been  really  taken  prisoner  by  the 
hereditary  foe,  and  sold  to  the  Turks.  After  many 
adventures  he  had  been  ransomed,  and  returned  to 
find  his  one  surviving  son  a  gallant  knight,  in  the 
service  and  obedience  of  the  Emperor,  no  longer  the 
marauding  Baron  lie  himself  had  been.  He  refuses 
to  resume  his  foniier  state,  asking  only  for  a  quiet 
corner  in  which  to  'save  his  soul.'  '  It  was  jilain  that 
Sir  Eberhard  had  learnt  mor(!  Christianity  in  the 
hold  of  his  Moorish  pirate-ship  than  ever  in  the 
Holy  Roman  Empire'— long  ago  he  had  vowed  never 
to  return  to  a  life  of  violence — and  the  stoiy  ends 
with  an  epilogue,  showing  us  Ehbo  in  his  later  life. 
Miss  Yonge  could  not  resist  making  him  embrace,  to 
some  extent,  the  reformed  doctrine,  and  thereby  fall 
into  <lisgra<(!  with  Charles  V.  It  is  a  l)cautirul  book, 
to  which  this  short  account  (hx's  no  justice.  Tlic 
story  ot"  the  twin  hiolhris  and  I  heir  l(»\c,  and  ol' 
Frirth'I's  death,  is  of  all  her  si  orics  t  In-  most  touched 
with  ])()etic  grac(!.  When  the  I'ne  of  their  h(»us(>  has 
r.illcii   ;iiid    I-'riedel    is   n  i<  iit  a  1 1  y  wounde(  I,  I'iltho  oidy 


100  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

severely  hurt,  the  brothers  must  needs  be  sepa- 
rated. 

'  This  sentence  brought  the  first  cloud  of  grief 
or  dread  to  Friedel's  brow,  but  only  for  a  moment. 
He  looked  at  his  brother,  ^vho  had  again  fainted 
at  the  first  touch  of  his  wounded  limb,  and  said : 
"It  is  well.  Tell  the  dear  Ebbo  that  I  cannot 
help  it  if,  after  all,  I  go  to  the  praying  and  leave 
him  the  fighting.  Dear,  dear  Ebbo !  One  day  to- 
gether again  and  for  ever !  I  leave  thee  for  thine 
own  sake."  With  much  effort  he  signed  the  cross 
again  on  his  brother's  brow,  and  kissed  it  long  and 
fervently.  Then,  as  all  stood  round,  reluctant  to 
effect  this  severance,  or  disturb  one  on  whom  death 
was  visibly  fast  approaching,  he  struggled  up  on 
his  elbow,  and  held  out  the  other  hand,  saying : 
"Take  me  now,  Heinz,  ere  Ebbo  revive  to  be 
grieved.  The  last  sacrifice,"  he  further  whispered, 
whilst  almost  giving  himself  to  Heinz  and  Moritz 
to  be  carried  to  his  own  bed  in  the  turret  chamber. 

'  There,  even  as  they  laid  him  down,  began  what 
seemed  to  be  the  mortal  agony,  and,  though  he 
was  scarcely  sensible,  his  mother  felt  that  her 
prime  call  was  to  him,  while  his  brother  was  in 
other  hands.  Perhaps  it  was  well  for  her.  Surgical 
practice  was  rough,  and  wounds  made  by  firearms 
were  thought  to  have  imbibed  a  poison  that  made 
treatment  to  be  supposed  efficacious  in  proportion 
to  the  pain  inflicted.  When  Ebbo  was  recalled  by 
the  torture  to  see  no  white  reflection  of  his  own 
face  on  the  pillow  beside  him,  and  to  feel  in  vain  for 
the  grasp  of  the  cold,  damp  hand,  a  delirious  frenzy 


THE  HISTORICAL  TALES  107 

seized  him,  and  his  struggles  were  frustrating  the 
doctor's  attempts,  when  a  low,  soft,  sweet  song 
stole  through  the  open  door. 

'  "  Friedel!"  he  murmured,  and  held  his  breath 
to  listen.  All  through  the  declining  day  did  the 
gentle  sound  continue — now  of  grand  chants  or 
hymns  caught  from  the  cathedral  choir,  now  of 
songs  of  chivalry  or  saintly  legend  so  often  sung 
over  the  evening  fire,  the  one  flowing  into  the 
other  in  the  wandering  of  failing  powers,  but 
never  failing  in  the  tender  sweetness  that  had  dis- 
tinguished Friedel  through  life.  And  whenever 
that  voice  was  hoard,  let  them  do  to  him  what  they 
would,  Ebbo  was  still  absorbed  in  intense  listening 
so  as  not  to  lose  a  note,  and  lulled  almost  out  of 
sense  of  suffering  by  that  swan-like  music.  If  his 
attendants  made  such  noise  as  to  break  in  on  it,  or 
if  it  ceased  for  a  moment,  the  anguish  returned, 
but  was  charmed  away  by  the  weakest,  faintest 
resumption  of  the  song.  Probably  Friedel  knew 
not,  with  any  earthly  sense,  what  ho  was  doing, 
but  to  the  very  last  he  was  serving  his  twin 
brother  as  none  other  could  have  aided  him  in  his 
need. 

*  The  September  sun  had  set,  twilight  was  coming 
on,  the  doctor  had  worked  his  stern  will,  and 
Ebbo,  quivering  in  ev(uy  lil)re,  lay  spent  on  his 
pillow,  when  his  molluu'  glided  in  and  took  iicr 
seat  near  him,  though  whei'c!  she  hojied  he  would 
not  notice  her  presence.  IJut  he  raised  his  eye- 
lids, and  said,  "  H<^  is  not  sioging  now." 

'"Singing  indeed,  l)ut  where  we  cannot  hear 
him,"  she   answered.     " '  Whitei*   than   the   snow, 


108  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

clearer  than  the  ice-cave,  more  solemn  than  the 
choir.  They  will  come  at  last.'  That  was  what  he 
said,  even  as  he  entered  there."  And  the  low  dove- 
like tone  and  tendei*  calm  face  continued  upon 
Ebbo  the  spell  that  the  chant  had  left.  He  dozed 
as  though  still  lulled  by  its  echo.' 

This  is  one  story  which  surely  need  never  grow 
old-fashioned. 

The  Cha'plet  of  Pearls  is  hardly  less  excellent.  In 
it  we  are  given  a  romantic  story  which  is  laid  in 
the  period  of  the  St.  Bartholomew  massacre.  The 
J) resent  writer  well  remembers  Dr.  Bright,  the 
eminent  Professor  of  Ecclesiastical  History  in  the 
University  of  Oxford,  pointing  out  the  great  lite- 
rary merit  of  the  account  of  the  dying  hours  of 
Charles  IX.     We  will  quote  it : 

'  The  surgeon  said,  "  You  have  seen  a  sad  sight, 
Monsieur  le '  Baron :  I  need  not  bid  you  to  be 
discreet." 

'"There  are  some  things  that  go  too  deep  for 
speech,"  sighed  the  almost  English  Berenger ;  then, 
after  a  pause,  "  Is  there  no  hope  for  him  ?  Is  he 
indeed  dying?" 

' "  Without  a  miracle,  he  cannot  live  a  month. 
He  is  as  truly  slain  by  the  St.  Bartholomew  as 
ever  its  martyrs  were,"  said  Pare,  moved  out  of 
his  usual  cautious  reserv^e  towards  one  who  had 
seen  so  much  and  felt  so  truly.  "  I  tell  you,  sir, 
that  his  mother  hath  as  truly  slain  her  sons,  as  if 
she  had  sent  Reno  there  to  them  with  his  drugs. 
According  as  they  have  consciences  and  hearts,  so 
they  pine  and  ijciish  under  her  rule." 


THE  HISTORICAL  TALES  109 

'  Berenger  shuddered,  and  almost  sobbed.  "  And 
hath  he  no  better  hoi^e,  no  comforter?"  he  asked. 

' "  None  save  good  old  Flipote.  As  you  heard, 
the  Queen-mother  Avill  not  suffer  his  own  Church 
to  speak  to  him  in  her  true  voice.  No  confessor 
but  one  chosen  by  the  Cardinal  of  Lorraine  may 
come  near  him,  and  with  liim  all  is  mere  ceremony. 
But  if  at  the  last  he  opens  his  ear  and  heart  to  take 
in  the  true  hope  of  salvation,  it  will  be  from  the 
voice  of  poor  old  PhiHppine." 

'  And  so  it  was !  It  was  Philipi3ine  who  heard 
him  in  the  night  sobbing  over  the  piteous  words, 
"My  God,  what  horrors,  what  blood !"  and,  as  she 
took  from  him  his  tear-drenched  handkerchief, 
spoke  to  him  of  the  Blood  that  speaketh  better 
tliin^':s  than  tlio  l)l()()d  of  Abel ;  and  it  was  she  who, 
in  his  final  agony,  heard  and  treasured  these  last 
words,  "  If  the  Lord  Jesus  will  indeed  receive  me 
into  the  company  of  the  blest !"  Surely,  never  was 
repentance  deeper  than  that  of  Charles  IX.,  and 
these,  his  parting  words,  were  such  as  to  inspire 
the  trust  that  it  was  not  remorse;.' 

Miss  Yonge  in  this  book  gras])ed  the  sj)irit  to  some 
extent,  at  any  rate,  of  this  jxuiod.  We  do  recognize 
Charles  IX.  and  Catherine  de'  Medici  and  the  great 
}lenry,  and  the  portrait  of  th<3  old  Huguenot 
minister,  who  )>roved  such  a  father  in  need  to  the 
hapless  li('?"oiii('.  The  dcsn-ipt  ion  of  thcCourl  of  (h(5 
I  )iicIm'ss«!  <!(•  (Quillet,  wit  li  all  its  II  ugiiciiot  stillness 
find  real  goodness,  is  very  good  indeed. 

7'hi!  ('(i{/('(l  Lion,  a  story  of  James  I.  of  Scotland, 
introduces  us  to  Henry  V.  of  England,  and  gives  us 


110  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

a  vivid  picture  of  the  King  and  of  his  brother  Bed- 
ford, of  the  iUncss  of  Henry,  of  the  Flemish  Court. 
There  is  a  saintly  heroine,  and  another  weak  hero, 
Malcolm,  who  grows  to  be  a  saint.  It  is  an  inter- 
esting story,  and  sheds  light  on  several  not  very 
familiar  bits  of  history.  Malcolm  after  James  I.'s 
murder  goes  to  Jerusalem.  He  returns  to  die,  and 
is  tended  on  his  death-bed  by  his  first  and  only  love, 
Esclairmonde,  now  a  holy  nun. 

' "  Sister,"  he  said,  "  the  morn  that  I  had  offered 
my  ring,  I  was  feeble  and  faint ;  and  when  I  knelt 
on  before  the  altar  in  continued  prayer — I  know 
not  whether  I  slept  or  whether  it  were  a  vision, 
but  it  was  to  me  as  though  I  were  again  on  the 
river,  and  again  the  hymn  of  Bei'nard  of  Morlaix 
was  sung  around  and  above  me  by  the  voice  I 
never  thought  to  hear  again.  I  looked  up,  and 
behold  it  was  I  that  was  in  the  boat — my  King  was 
there  no  more.  Nay,  he  stood  on  the  shore,  and 
his  eyes  beamed  on  me  ;  w^hile  the  ghastly  wounds 
that  I  once  strove  in  anguish  to  staunch  shone  out 
like  a  ruby  cross  on  his  breast — the  hands,  that 
were  so  sorely  gashed,  were  to  me  as  though 
marked  by  the  impi-ess  of  the  Sacred  Wounds.  He 
spake  not ;  but  by  his  side  stood  King  Henry, 
beautiful  and  spirit-like,  and  smiled  on  me,  and 
seemed  as  though  he  pointed  to  the  wounds  as  he 
said, '  Blessed  is  the  King  who  died  by  his  i^eople's 
hand,  for  Avithstanding  his  people's  sin !  Blessed 
is  every  faint  image  of  the  true  King !' 

'  "  Then  methought  they  held  out  their  arms  to 
me,  and  I  would  have  come  to  them  on  their  shore 


THE  HISTORICAL  TALES  111 

of  rest,  but  the  river  bore  nie  away — and  I  looked 
up,  to  find  I  was  as  yet  only  in  the  earthly  Jeru- 
salem ;  but  I  watch  for  them  every  hour,  to  call 
me  once  and  for  ever." ' 

These  are  the  three  most  important  historical 
stories.  Perhaps  the  critic  will  say  Miss  Yonge  has 
idealized  everything  too  much,  but  nevertheless 
there  is  a  true  ring  about  them.  We  do  seem  to  see 
tlie  places  and  people  she  describes,  and,  daring  as 
it  will  seem  to  be  to  make  such  a  statement,  The 
Chaplet  of  Pearls  is  not  an  unworthy  companion  to 
Mr.  Benson's  By  What  Authority  ?■  and  might  recall 
what  that  delightful  book  ignores,  the  St.  Bartholo- 
mew and  the  general  state  of  religion  in  France. 

To  The  Cha/jtcf  of  Pearls  Miss  Yonge  wrote  in  later 
years  a  sequel  which  first  appeared  in  the  Monthly 
Packet — Stray  Pearls.  It  is  not  nearly  so  interesting 
as  the  Chaplet,  })ut  has  capital  descriptions  of  the 
Fronde,  of  Fr(!ncli  society  at  that  period,  and  of  the 
misery  of  the;  French  peasant. 

A  final  sequel.  The  Release,  which  dealt  with  the 
French  Revolution,  was  not  nearly  so  good,  and 
does  not  seem  to  us  to  have  caught  tlu^  spirit  of  the 
time.  It  was  one  of  Miss  Y(jnge's  last  and  l(\-ist  able 
bf)oks. 

Miss  Yonge  woi'ked  a  good  d(?al  at  history.  She 
was  always  writing  the  'Cameos' for  tho.  Pachct,  and 
somo  years  bcforf;  fhis  she  had  wiilleii  (»ti(^  of  Ihm* 
most  d(;liglitful  little  Ijooks,  which  should  not  be 
allowed  to  j)ass  into  the  heap  of  forgotten  things, 
A  Book  of  Golden  Deeds.     Sj)(>  says  : 


112  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

'It  is  rather  intended  as  a  treasury  for  young 
]ieople,  where  they  may  find  minuter  particulars 
than  their  abridged  histories  usually  afford  of  the 
soul-stirring  deeds  that  give  life  and  glory  to  the 
record  of  events,  and  where,  also,  other  like  actions, 
out  of  their  ordinary  course  of  reading,  may  be 
X:)laced  before  them,  in  the  trust  that  example  may 
inspire  the  spirit  of  heroism  and  self-devotion. 
For  surely  it  must  be  a  wholesome  contemplation 
to  look  on  actions  the  very  essence  of  which  is 
such  entire  absorption  in  others  that  self  is  not  so 
much  renounced  as  forgotten  ;  the  object  of  which 
is  not  to  win  i^romotion,  wealth,  or  success,  but 
simple  duty,  mercy,  and  loving-kindness.  These 
are  the  actions  wrought,  "  hoping  for  nothing 
again,"  but  which  must  surely  have  their  reward. 

'  At  some  risk  of  prolixity,  enough  of  the  sur- 
rounding events  have  in  general  been  given  to 
make  the  situation  comprehensible,  even  without 
knowledge  of  the  general  history.  This  has  been 
done  in  the  hope  that  these  extracts  may  serve  as 
a  mother's  storehouse  for  reading  aloud  to  her 
boys,  or  that  they  may  be  found  useful  for  short 
readings  to  the  intelligent,  though  uneducated, 
classes.' 

We  cannot  even  among  the  store  of  new  books  with 
lovely  illustrations  find  a  better  book  than  this,  and 
there  is  so  much  in  it  which  is  quite  unfamiliar. 

Another  excellent  book  is  the  one  called  A  Book 
of  Worthies.  In  it  she  tells  the  story  of  thirteen 
great  champions,  beginning  with  Joshua  and  ending 
with  Julius  Caesar, 


THE  HISTORICAL  TALES  113 

'  In  old  times,'  she  says  in  her  preface,  *  when 
brave  men  had  little  time  to  read,  and  fewer  books, 
they  still  kept  clusters  of  glorious  examples 
gathered  from  all  times  to  light  them  on  the  way 
to  deeds  of  virtue. 

'Such  were  the  Seven  Champions  of  Christen- 
dom ;  the  Dozipairs,  or  Twelve  Peers  of  France ; 
the  Seven  Wise  Masters ;  and,  above  all,  the  Nine 
Worthies.  These  nine  were,  three  from  Israel, 
namely,  Joshua,  David,  and  Judas  Maccabeus ; 
three  from  Heathenesse,  to  wit,  Hector,  Alexander, 
and  Julius  Caesar ;  and  three  from  Christendom, 
Arthur,  Charlemagne,  and  Godfrey  de  Bouillon.' 

Miss  Yonge  points  out  that  our  judgment  of  what 
constitutes  worthies  may  differ  a  little  from  the  old 
compiler  of  the  first  nine,  but  *  he  has  selected  the 
noblest  instances  he  knew  of  great,  good,  and  true 
men  and  "  happy  warriors,"  and,  so  far  as  we  may, 
we  follow  his  guidance  in  our  choice.' 

Tlie  Uislonj  of  (Jliriatian  Navies  is  a  book  which 
strikes  one  with  awe.  It  is  full  of  information,  and 
represents  an  extraordinary  amount  of  work.  Very 
likely  it  abounds  in  errors,  for  philology  has  lunl 
many  new  lights  shed  on  it  since  her  day;  but  it 
also  abounds  in  curious,  out-of-the-way  facts.  Hero 
is  one : 

'It  is  a  more  curious  fact  .  .  .  that  Hannibal 
has  always  been  a  favourite  [namoj  with  the 
peasantry  of  Cornwall.  From  the  lirst  dawn  of 
j)arish  registers  Haiinyball  is  of  constant  occur- 
rence, much  too  early  even  in  that  intelligent 
county  to  bea  mere  gU^aning  U\>\\\  Imoks;  and  the 

8 


114  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

AVest  Country  surname  of  Honeyball  must  surely 
be  from  the  same  source.  A  few  other  Eastern 
names,  though  none  as  frequent  or  as  clearly 
traced  as  the  present,  have  remained  in  use  in  this 
remote  county,  and  ought  to  be  allowed  due  weight 
in  favour  of  the  supposed  influence  of  the  Phoe- 
nician traders  over  the  races  that  supplied  them 
with  tin  and  lead.' 

Or  take  this  account  of  Richard  (the  name) : 

'  Richard,  or  Richardet,  was  one  of  the  Quatre 
Fils  d'Agmon,  who,  according  to  one  version,  was 
the  person  who  gave  the  fatal  blow  with  the 
chess-board  instead  of  Renaud.''  He  is  not  a  very 
interesting  personage,  being  rather  the  attendant 
knight  than  the  prime  hero  ;  the  rescued,  not  the 
rescuer ;  but  under  his  Italian  name  of  Ricciar- 
detto  he  has  a  whole  poem  to  himself  written  by 
a  secretary  of  the  Propaganda.  ...  It  was  not  to 
this  Paladin  that  its  name  owed  its  frequency,  but 
to  Richard,  or  stern  King,  an  Anglo-Saxon  monarch 
of  Kent,  who  left  his  throne  to  become  a  monk 
of  Lucca,  and  was  there  said  to  have  wrought 
miracles.' 

These  quotations  will  give  some  notion  of  the 
w^ealth  of  stories  contained  in  the  two  volumes  of 
The  History  of  Christian  Navies. 

Miss  Yonge  wrote  a  great  number  of  short  stories, 
and  one,  New  Ground,  deals  with  the  adventures  of 

*  Ilenaud  was  the  hero  of  an  old  French  romance  called  Les 
Quatre  Filn  Aimon.  He  was  insulted  while  playing  at  chess,  and 
replied  by  dashing  out  his  enemy's  brains  with  the  board. 


BISHOP  PATTESON  115 

a  clergyman  and  his  family  in  Kaffirland  somewhere 
in  the  sixties.  There  are  very  clever  sketches  of 
character  in  this  tiny  book.  There  is  the  quiet, 
devoted  girl,  ready  to  go  or  stay,  as  seems  best,  and 
who  goes,  and  lays  down  her  life  for  the  work's 
sake ;  and  there  is  a  sentimental  girl,  full  of  talk, 
and  aspirations,  and  eagerness,  who  breaks  down 
utterly,  while  a  rather  dull  sister,  who  hates  leaving 
home,  develops  into  one  of  the  best  of  workers.  We 
wonder  if  this  story  is  still  sometimes  read  at 
Mission  working-parties.  It  certainly  would  be  very 
wholesome  reading,  especially  the  account  of  the 
breakdown  of  the  girl  who  wanted  to  teach  natives, 
and  who  grumbled  that  it  did  not  seem  worth  while 
to  have  come  out  just  to  do  housemaid's  work  and 
teach  tiresome  white  children  not  half  so  nice  as  she 
could  find  in  the  village  school  at  home  .  .  .  and  as 
for  the  natives  .  .  .  '  it  is  a  mere  delusion  to  think 
that  their  coming  all  greasy  and  horrid  into  our  huts 
to  paw  everything  and  say  "  wow  "  is  teacliing  them 
to  be  Christians.     Not  that  1  am  complaining,'  elc. 

Foreign  Mission  work  was  very  much  in  Miss 
Yonge's  mind  at  that  time,  for  in  hS71  appeared 
Pioneers  and  Founders,  a  book  of  sUulicsof  the  lives 
of  some  missionaries,  liefoio  this  she  had  written 
The  Pupils  of  St.  John  the  Divine.  Neither  of  these 
books  should  be  forgotten,  for  there  is  really  no 
successor  to  either,  and  tlie  ignorance  of  Church- 
people  about  the  successors  of  the  Ap(^stles  and 
about  the  Mission  work  of  the  Church  is  often  most 
profound.  These  books  were  leading  up  to  her 
chief  contiibution  to  Mission  litcraturo,  the  Life  of 
John  (Jole)idye  I'dfteson. 

8—2 


116  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

This  is  a  fascinating  biography.  Many  of  us  well 
remember  the  two  large  volumes,  which  was  the 
first  form  in  which  it  appeared,  and  realize  how  they 
made  us,  for  the  first  time,  know  something  of  the 
reality  of  the  Divine  call  to  the  Church,  something 
of  the  extraordinary  romance  and  beauty  of  true 
self-devotion. 

'  It  was  embalming  a  saint  of  the  Church,'  she  said ; 
and  truly  no  more  true  and  loyal  son  of  the  Church 
has  ever  gone  forth  to  the  Mission  work  than  Bishop 
Patteson. 

Indeed,  those  who  read  the  book  will  say  she  has 
been  allowed  to  do  what  she  hoped — 

'  to  succeed  in  my  earnest  hope  and  endeavour  to 
bring  the  statue  out  of  the  block,  and,  as  it  were, 
to  carve  the  figure  of  the  saint  for  his  niche  among 
those  who  have  given  themselves  soul  and  body  to 
God's  work.' 

Miss  Yonge  oj)ens  her  book  with  a  particularly 
fresh  and  interesting  account  of  Mr.  Justice  Patte- 
son, the  Bishop's  father,  and  of  the  habits  and 
customs  of  legal  circles  in  the  early  years  of  the 
nineteenth  century.  Both  Mr.  Justice  Patteson  and 
his  wife,  who  w^as  the  sister  of  Sir  John  Taylor  Cole- 
ridge, were  very  remarkable  people. 

Coleridge  Patteson's  boyhood,  especially  the  Eton 
period,  is  delightfully  described.  Excepting  one  or 
two  of  the  great  biographies,  we  can  hardly  call  to 
mind  any  life  which  deals  so  pleasantly  with  the 
story  of  the  man's  boyhood.  Miss  Yonge  knew  her 
Eton  and  her  Oxford,  and  as,  fortunately,  Patteson's 
letters  had  been  kept,  the  picture  is  very  complete. 


BISHOP  PATTESON  117 

It  is  wonderful  to  read  of  the  purpose  of  self -dedi- 
cation, kindled  apparently  by  two  sermons — one 
preached  by  Archdeacon  (afterwards  Bishop)  Wilber- 
force,  and  one  by  the  recently-consecrated  Bishop 
Selwyn.  That  purpose  was  never  forgotten,  and 
the  boy's  tutor,  Mr.  Edward  Coleridge,  was  full  of 
interest  in  missions.  And  Miss  Yonge  tells  us  how 
Bishop  Selwyn,  who  was  a  friend  of  the  Patteson 
family,  half  seriously-,  half  playfully,  asked  :  '  Lady 
Patteson,  will  you  give  me  Coley?'  The  boy  con- 
fided to  his  mother  that  he  wished  to  go  with  the 
Bishop,  and  his  mother  replied  that  if  he  kept  that 
wish  she  would  consent. 

His  mother's  death  in  1842  made  a  very  deep  im- 
pression on  Coleridge  Patteson,and,as  his  biographer 
says,  '  everything  sank  deeply.'  He  certainly  was 
most  fortunate  in  his  father,  whose  letter  to  him  on 
his  failure  to  attain  a  place  in  the  Select  at  the 
examination  iov  the  Newcastle  Scholarship  shows 
an  ideal  relationshij)  between  father  and  son.  Sir 
John  Taylor  Coleridge  said  of  Judge  Patteson  that 
he  was  a  man  of  singulaily  strong  conuiion  sense, 
and  this  letter  shows  it.  He  is  so  reasonable  about 
his  disappointment.  The  whole  picture  of  Eton  life 
is  v<'iy  interesting,  inchiding  a  d(\scri|)tion  of 
Windsor  Fair.  Then  came  days  at  I'alliol,  and 
mentidn  of  vaiMoiis  friends  wliosi^  names  became 
well  known  in  after-years.  I']tl\\  in  Palmer,  al'tei-- 
wards  Arclide.Kon  of  Oxfoi'd,  and  his  hrot  lier-in  law  . 
Mr.  Januvs  Hiddell,  ho  early  lost  to  Oxfoj-d  ami  1o 
Balliol,  wer<!  of  these. 

Patteson  was  an  ontbiisiasi  ic  cricketer,  and  Miss 
Yong(;  tells  u  story  of  u  I'rofessional  coming  to  liim 


118  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

in  Melbourne  years  after  he  had  left  Oxford,  and 
begging  him  to  give  him  a  meeting  at  5  a.m.,  and  let 
the  Professional  bowl  him  a  few  balls  ! 

The  account  of  Patteson's  Oxford  life  is  as  good  as 
that  of  Eton.  There  is  a  sketch  of  'Coley  as  an 
Undergraduate '  by  Principal  ShairjD,  which  speaks 
of  Patteson  as 

'the  representative  of  the  very  best  kind  of 
Etonian  .  .  .  those  pleasant  manners  and  that 
perfect  ease  in  dealing  with  men  and  the  world 
which  are  the  inheritance  of  Eton,  without  the 
least  tincture  of  worldliness.' 

It  is  difficult  not  to  linger  over  these  charming 
pages  describing  Patteson  as  a  layman ;  amongst 
other  matters,  the  story  of  his  father's  resignation  of 
his  post  as  Judge  on  account  of  deafness,  and  the 
high-minded  and  simple  way  in  which  his  resignation 
was  carried  out.  Miss  Yonge  might  well  say  that  the 
Judge  '  had  done  that  which  is,  perhaps,  the  best 
thing  that  it  is  permitted  to  man  to  do  here  below 
— namely,  "  served  God  in  his  generation." ' 

Patteson  was  elected  a  Fellow  of  Merton  in  1852,* 
and  devoted  some  time  to  the  study  of  Hebrew  and 
Arabic  in  Dresden.  We  wish  Miss  Yonge  had  told 
us  who  was  the  famous  theologian  to  whom  Mr. 
Arthur  Coleridge,  who  was  Patteson's  companion, 
refers  in  a  letter.  It  is  wonderful  to  read  of  Patte- 
son's taste  for,  and  acquirements  in,  the  study  of 
languages,  of  philology,  and  to  see  how  very  soon 
he  relinquished  all  intellectual  delights. 

In  18.53  he  was  ordained  to  the  curacy  at  Alfington, 

*  He  retained  his  Fellowship  until  his  death. 


BISHOP    PATTESON. 

From  a  sketch  kindly  lent  Uy  the  Mrl.inciian  Mis'<ion. 


To/ace  paf;c  ti8. 


BISHOP  PATTESON  119 

a  hamlet  of  Ottery  St.  Mary,  where  a  church  had 
been  built  by  Sir  John  Taylor  Coleridge. 

These  chapters  which  tell  us  of  Patteson's  dia- 
conate— his  early  ministrj^ — are  still  very  well  worth 
reading.  He  pours  himself  out  to  his  father  about 
all  his  difficulties  and  perplexities.  He  had  a  j)ecu- 
liarly  happy  time,  and  his  sister  writes  :  '  The  im- 
pression he  has  made  is  really  extraordinary.' 

And  then  comes  the  story  of  the  sacrifice.  And, 
again,  this  should  never  be  forgotten,  for  it  gives 
the  picture  of  an  ideal  parental  surrender.  Bishop 
Selwyn  came  to  stay  at  the  Judge's  house,  Feniton 
Court,  in  1854,  and  after  a  talk  with  him  Coley  went 
to  his  sister  and  told  her  that  the  Bishop  knew  of 
his  wish. 

' "  You  ought  to  put  it  to  my  father,  that  he  may 
decide  it,"  she  answered.  "He  is  so  great  a  man 
that  he  ought  not  to  be  deprived  of  the  crown  of 
Sacrifice  if  he  be  willing  to  make  it." ' 

'The  crown  of  Sacrifice.'  How  few  of  us  could 
speak  in  tliis  way  about  the  giving  up  of  a  brother ! 

'  So  Col(!y  rc})."iii'('d  to  his  father  and  confessed 
his  iong-choi-islicd  wish,  and  how  it  liad  come  forth 
to  the  Bishop.  Sir  John  was  manifestly  startled, 
but  at  once  said:  "You  have  done  (|nito  right  U) 
speak  to  me,  and  not  to  w/iil.  It  is  my  first  im- 
pulse to  say  No,  l)u'  thai  would  l)c  vciy  selfish." 

'  Coh'VcxplaiiK'd  flint  he  was  "diiven  to  s[)eak"; 
he  declared  himscir  not  dissatisfied  wit  li  his  i)resent 
f)osition.  iioi',  1h'  hoped.  imj)ati<'n1.  If  his  staying 
at   home  wcj'e  decided   upon,  he  would  eheerfully 


120  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

work  on  there  without  disappointment  or  imagin- 
ing his  wishes  thwarted.  He  would  leave  the  deci- 
sion entirely  in  the  hands  of  his  father  and  the 
Bishop. 

'  Luncheon  brought  the  whole  family  together, 
and  Sir  John,  making  room  for  his  younger 
daughter  beside  him,  said :  "  Fan,  did  you  know 
this  about  Coley  ?" 

'  She  answered  that  she  had  some  idea,  but  no 
more  could  pass  till  the  meal  was  ended,  when  her 
father  went  into  another  room,  and  she  followed 
him.  The  great  grief  broke  out  in  the  exclama- 
tion, "  I  can't  let  him  go  "  ;  but  even  as  the  words 
were  uttered  they  were  caught  back,  as  it  were, 
with  "  God  forbid  I  should  stop  him !" 

*  The  subject  could  not  be  pursued,  for  the  Bishop 
was  public  property  among  the  friends  and  neigh- 
bours, and  the  rest  of  the  day  was  bestowed  upon 
them.  He  preached  on  the  Sunday  at  Alfington, 
where  the  people  thronged  to  hear  him,  little 
thinking  of  the  consequences  of  his  visit. 

*  Not  till  afterwards  were  the  Bishop  and  the 
father  alone  together,  when  vSir  John  brought  the 
subject  forward.  The  Bishop  has  since  said  that 
what  struck  him  most  was  the  calm  balancing  of 
arguments,  like  a  true  Christian  Judge.  Sir  John 
spoke  of  the  great  comfort  he  had  in  this  son,  cut 
off  as  he  was  by  his  infirmity  from  so  much  of 
society,  and  enjoying  the  young  man's  coming  in 
to  talk  about  his  work.  He  dwelt  on  all  with 
entire  absence  of  excitement,  and  added :  "  But 
there,  what  right  have  I  to  stand  in  his  way? 
How  do  I  know  that  I  may  live  another  year?" 


BISHOP  PATTESON  121 

'And  as  the  conversation  ended,  "Mind!"  he 
said,  "  I  give  him  wholly,  not  with  any  thought  of 
seeing  him  again.  I  will  not  have  him  thinking 
he  must  come  home  again  to  see  me." 

'  That  resolution  was  the  cause  of  much  peace  of 
mind  to  both  father  and  son. 

*  After  family  prayers  that  Sunday  night,  when 
all  the  rest  had  gone  upstairs,  the  Bishop  detained 
the  young  man,  and  told  him  the  result  of  the 
conversation,  then  added  :  "  Now,  my  dear  Coley, 
having  ascertnined  your  own  state  of  mind,  and 
having  spoken  at  length  to  your  father  and  j^our 
family,  I  can  no  longer  hesitate,  as  far  as  you 
recognize  any  power  to  call  on  my  part,  to  invite 
you  most  distinctly  to  the  work." 

'  The  reply  was  full  acceptance. 

'  Then,  taking  his  hand,  the  Bishop  said :  "  God 
bless  you,  my  dear  Coley !  It  is  a  great  comfort 
to  me  to  have  you  for  a  friend  and  companion." 

'  Such  was  the  outward  and  such  the  inwai'd 
vocation  to  the  deacon  now  within  a  month  of  the 
priesthood.  Was  it  not  an  evident  call  from  Ilim 
by  whom  the  whole  Church  is  governed  and  sanc- 
tified ?  And  surely  the  nol^le  old  man,  who  foi-cod 
himself  not  to  withhold  "his  son,  his  first  hoiJi 
son,"  i-cceived  his  crown  from  Him  who  s.iid  : 
"  With  blessing  1  will  bless  thee." ' 

We  have  lingo'cd  over  these  early  j)Mges  of  the 
biogra|)hy,  foi-,  as  we  ha\e  sjiid,  they  iwo  so  woiidci- 
fully  fresh,  and  give  so  dc^lightrul  a  dcscrijjl  ion  ol" 
Patteson's  yoni  h  .mtkI  of  Iiis  f.-iinily:  ( ii<' sf  o)"y  ol"  his 
work  is   full   ol    interest .  ;in(l    he  still   poms   himself 


122  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

out  to  his  beloved  fathei',  who  lived  to  hear  of  him 
as  admitted  to  the  order  of  Bishops.  The  Judge 
died  in  1861.  Some  time  before  his  death  he  knew 
that  his  days  were  numbered,  and  his  letters  to  his 
son  and  to  Bishop  Selwj^n  are  just  the  letters  we 
should  have  expected — brave  and  pious,  and  full  of 
faith  and  joyful  hojie. 

'  His  works  do  follow  him,'  writes  Miss  Yoiige, 
and  she  goes  on  :  '  We  turn  to  that  work  of  his 
son's  in  which  assuredly  he  had  his  part,  since  one 
word  of  his  would  have  turned  aside  the  course 
that  had  brought  such  blessing  on  both,  had  he 
not  accepted  the  summons,  even  as  Zebedee,  when 
he  was  left  by  the  lake-side,  while  his  sons  became 
fishers  of  men.' 

Miss  Yonge  writes  to  Miss  F.  Patteson  : 

'July  7,  18G1. 

'My  dear  Fanny, 

'  I  thought  it  might  be  more  comfortable  to 
you  not  to  hear  from  me  till  the  great  stress  of 
letters  was  over  at  first,  and  so  that  I  would  wait 
to  write  till  I  could  send  the  precious  letters 
[Bishop  Patteson's].*  We  took  our  turn  the  last, 
and  so  read  them  upon  Friday,  the  very  day  one 
would  have  chosen  above  all  others  for  it,  the 
girding  to  the  battle  in  that  calm  and  self -devoted 
spirit  seemed  to  chime  in  so  perfectly  with  the 
resting  from  the  labours.  One  in  sjjirit  as  they 
always  were,  how  much  closer  they  may  be  to- 

*  Bisliop  Pattei?oii  liad  been  consecrated  on  St.  Mattln'as's  Day^ 
18(;i. 


BISHOP  PATTESON  123 

gether  now !  And  now  your  Sunday  is  passing 
fast  away,  and  that  return  to  daily  life  is  coming 
that  seems  hardest  of  all  when  the  external  calm 
is  over,  and  one  seems  no  longer  lifted  into  that 
higher  and  more  real  region,  but  beginning  to  find 
what  the  world  is  without  the  arm  one  has  leant 
on  so  long. 

'  It  is  strange  how  the  recurrence  of  scene  or 
place  brings  this  back  as  fresh  as  ever  when  one 
thinks  one  is  used  to  it :  the  pang  of  not  looking 
for  the  white  head  [of  her  father]  in  the  stalls  of 
the  Cathedral  was  one  of  the  first,  and  it  was 
almost  as  overcoming  to  see  the  field-paths  where 
we  used  to  walk  between  churches  on  Sunday  .  .  . 
and  the  not  having  him  to  meet  me  at  the  end  of 
a  journey ;  only  that  brought  the  thought,  Would 
that  face  meet  me  in  the  real  home  when  the 
journey  is  over?  It  is  the  first  vexation  and 
worry,  the  first  loss,  that  is,  after  all,  what  com- 
forts one  most— when  it  is  what  would  have  been 
doubly  felt  for  them,  and  one  knows  they  are 
shielded  and  only  gain  by  it. 

•After  your  last  note  to  me,  I  was  sure  your 
first  feelings  must  be  of  the  relief  that  the  hard 
and  long  way  to  the  grave  was  over,  and  rest  had 
so  gently  begun,  and  this  must  be  the  abiding  sense, 
even  though  the  sore,  sore  missing  nuist  come, 
till  tlie  giicf  turns  with  time  to  solemn  i)leasuro. 

'After  all,  but  for  thosc^  beantiful  letters,  it  is 
such  a  separation  as  that  from  your  l)rothei-,  and 
with  no  anxiety  and  suspense.  Those  letters  do 
go  houK'  to  one's  licart  :  ns  Mrs.  Keble  said,  one  can 
hardly  part  from  them;  there  is  something  in  the 


124  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

depth  and  simplicity  of  your  brothei-'s  that  ought 
to  do  one  great  good,  and  fills  one  -with  more 
reverence  than  I  can  say. 

'  His  own  feelings  seem  to  me  to  absorb  all  the 
rest,  and  to  be  much  the  most  precious  part ;  but 
there  certainly  ought  to  be  a  description  of  the 
outward  things  put  forth,  and  this  could,  I 
should  think,  be  easily  compiled  from  his  and 
Mrs.  Abraham's  letters.  I  have  done  as  you  told 
me,  and  have  put  the  l)ound  Daiay  Chain  into 
Mrs.  Biss'  case  [for  New  Zealand].  .  .  . 

'  You  will  be  feeling  the  whole  sorrow  freshly 
both  in  thinking  of  the  arrival  of  the  letters  in 
N.  Zealand,  and  in  watching  for  the  answers  ; 
but  I  have  hoped  from  the  first  that  the  tidings  of 
the  first  alarm  and  then  of  the  end  would  not  be 
far  apart,  and  that  there  would  be  no  dreary 
watching  for  mails  coming  in.  And,  oh,  what  a 
comfort  the  talk  to  Mrs.  Selwyn  will  be!  Mrs. 
Keble  wrote  to  her,  but  she  could  not  come  then, 
but  ho^Des  to  manage  it.' 

One  longs  to  quote  Bishop  Patteson's  admirable 
letter  to  his  tutor — on  p.  341,  vol.  i. — Mr.  Edward 
Coleridge,  but  those  who  already  know  Bishop 
Patteson's  Life  will  remember  it,  and  those  who  do 
not  had  better  read  it  at  once.  Some  sentences  we 
must  quote.  He  is  speaking  of  his  longing  for  men 
and  what  sort  of  men  he  needs — men  of  industry, 
men  of  religious  common  sense — and  he  says  : 

'  Then,  again,  unless  a  man  can  dispense  with 
what  we  ordinarily  call  comfort  or  luxuries  to  a 


BISHOP  PATTESON  125 

great  extent,  and  knock  about  anywhere  in  Mela- 
nesian  huts,  he  can  hardly  do  much  work  in  this 
mission.  The  climate  is  so  warm  that,  to  my 
mind,  it  quite  supplies  the  place  of  the  houses, 
clothing,  and  food  of  old  days,  yet  a  man  cannot 
accommodate  himself  to  it  all  at  once.  I  don't 
say  that  it  came  naturally  to  me  five  years  ago,  as 
it  does  now,  when  I  feel  at  home  anywhere,  and 
cease  to  think  it  odd  to  do  things  which,  I  suppose, 
you  would  think  very  extraordinary  indeed. 

'  But  most  of  all — for  this  makes  all  easy — men 
are  wanted  who  really  do  desire  in  their  hearts  to 
live  for  God  and  the  world  to  come,  and  who  have 
really  sought  to  sit  very  loosely  to  this  world. 
The  enjoyment,  and  the  happiness,  and  the  peace 
ail  come,  and  that  abundantly  ;  but  there  is  a 
condition,  and  the  first  rub  is  a  hard  one,  and  lasts 
a  good  wliile. 

'  Naturally  buoyant  spirits,  the  gift  of  a  merry 
heart,  are  a  great  help ;  for  oftentimes  a  man  may 
have  to  spend  months  without  any  white  man 
within  hundreds  of  miles,  and  it  is  very  depressing 
to  live  alone  in  the  midst  of  heathenism,  iiut 
there  must  be  many,  many  fellows  pulling  up  to 
Surley  to-night  who  may  be  well  able  to  pull 
togctlier  with  one  on  the  l*acific — young  fellows 
whose  enthusiasm  is  not  mere  excitement  of 
animal  spirits,  and  whose  pluck  and  courage  are 
given  them  to  stand  the  roughnesses  (such  as  they 
are)  of  a  missionaiy  life.  F<jr,  dear  Uncle,  if  you 
ever  talk  to  any  old  pujtil  of  yours  about  tin;  work, 
don't  let  him  suppose  that  it  is  consistent  with 
ease  and  absence  of  anxiety  and  work.     When  on 


126  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

shore  at  Kohimarama,  we  live  very  cosily,  as  I 
think.  Some  might  say  we  have  no  society,  very 
simple  fare,  etc. ;  I  don't  think  any  man  would 
really  find  it  so.  But  in  the  islands,  I  don't  wish 
to  conceal  from  anyone  that,  measured  by  the  rule 
of  the  English  gentleman's  household,  there  is  a 
great  difference.  Why  should  it,  however,  be 
measured  by  this  standard  ?  I  can  truly  say  that 
we  have  hitherto  always  had  what  is  necessary 
for  health,  and  what  does  one  need  more  ?  though 
I  like  more  as  much  as  anyone.' 

Is  this  not  just  what  we  want  to  say  to  Etonians 
and  other  English  boys  nowadays  ? 

There  is  one  point  in  Bishop  Patteson's  career 
which  is  very  remarkable.  He  left  England  in  1854, 
and  he  laid  down  his  life  in  1871.  Never  once  did  he 
return  to  his  home  and  the  sisters  and  brother  he 
loved  so  well.  Of  course,  since  then  voyages  even  to 
New  Zealand  and  Melanesia  are  much  less  formid- 
able affairs  than  they  were  in  his  time,  but,  still,  it 
was  very  wonderful  that  he  never  gave  himself  the 
exceeding  joy  of  going  home. 

Bishop  Patteson's  correspondents  were  exceedingly 
interesting  people,  and  Miss  Yonge's  selection  of 
letters  is  marked  with  great  judgment.  There  are 
letters  to  Mr.  Keble  and  Dr.  Moberly,  as  well  as  to 
his  own  large  circle  of  relations,  including  Miss  Yonge 
herself. 

They  reveal  the  character  of  the  writer,  and  make 
us  understand  why  he  was  so  much  loved.  He  had 
considerable  mental  powers,  as  we  have  seen,  but  far 
beyond  all  these  were  his  extraordinary  unselfish- 


BISHOP  PATTESON  127 

ness  and  powers  of  loving  and  hunger  for  souls. 
The  Eton  and  Oxford  man,  the  English  gentleman, 
was  indeed  the  follower  of  the  '  Pastor  Pastorum,' 
and  few  people  can,  we  think,  read  his  letters  about 
his  '  boys  '  without  a  pang  of  shame  that  Christian 
brotherhood  has  been  realized  as  yet  so  little  by 
Christians. 

The  story  of  his  death  is  well  kno^^^l,  and  need  not 
be  repeated.  Miss  Yonge's  simple  narrative  is  worthy 
of  the  subject.  May  her  book  inspire  not  a  few 
Etonians  and  Oxford  men  and  Englishmen  to  follow 
in  the  steps  of  one  of  whom  one  of  his  own  converts 
wrote  :  '  He  did  not  despise  anyone,  nor  reject  any- 
one with  scorn.  Whether  it  were  a  white  or  a  black 
person,  he  thought  them  all  as  one,  and  he  loved 
them  all  alike.'  As  his  biographer  saj's,  '  He  loved 
them  all  alike.'  '  That  was  the  secret  of  John  Cole- 
ridge Patteson's  history  and  his  labours.  Need  more 
be  said  of  him  ?  Surely  the  simple  islander's  sum- 
mary of  his  character  is  the  honour  ho  would  prefer  ?' 


CHAPTER  VIII 

'the  pillars  of  the  house,'  and  other  family 
chronicles— changes 

(1873) 

While  Miss  Yonge  was  writing  Bishop  Patteson's 
Life,  she  was  also  busy  with  another  long  family 
chronicle,  in  some  ways  resembling  The  Daisy  Chain. 

The  Pillars  of  the  House  began  in  the  Monthly 
Packet  in  1869,  and  ended  in  1872.  It  was  published 
in  1873.  The  Pillars  of  the  House  is  linked  in  the 
present  writer's  mind  with  Bishop  Patteson's  Life, 
for  a  story  was  told  to  her  by  Miss  Annie  Moberly 
of  Miss  Yonge  coming  in  to  a  meal  after  a  morning's 
writing,  and  saying  :  '  I  have  had  a  dreadful  day ;  I 
have  killed  the  Bishop  and  Felix ' — Felix  being  the 
hero  of  the  Pillars. 

By  those  of  us  who  read  it  as  it  came  out  month 
after  month,  it  is  regarded  with  an  affection  which 
is,  perhaps,  inexplicable  to  those  who  only  know  it 
in  two  fat  volumes  with  unpleasing  illustrations — 
inexplicable,  at  least,  to  all  who  do  not  possess  that 
peculiar  cast  of  mind  which  enables  them  to  join 
the  circle  of  Miss  Yonge's  lovers.  A  lover  of  Miss 
Yonge  is  born,  not  made. 

The  dear  Pillars  !    Even  now  one  loves  it  best  in 

128 


'  THE  PILLARS  OF  THE  HOUSE '         120 

the  pages  of  the  Packet.  It  is  the  story  of  a  dis- 
inherited faniilj^  the  father  of  which  is  a  priest.  He 
is  very  soon  worn  out  by  hard  work  and  trouble, 
and  leaves  his  wife,  in  failing  health,  and  thirteen 
children,  the  two  youngest  of  them,  twins,  born  on 
the  day  the  father  dies.  And,  by  the  way,  to  nuise 
that  father  came  our  old  friend  of  the  Castle-Baildcrs, 
Lady  Herbert  Somerville,  transformed  into  Sister 
Constance,  of  S.  Faith's,  Dearport.  Lord  Herbert  is 
dead,  but  before  his  death  he  founded  the  com- 
munity.    The  chronology  is  rather  difficult. 

The  pillars  of  the  house  are  Felix,  the  eldest  boy, 
and  Wilmct,  the  elder  of  twin  sisters.  The  struggles 
of  the  i)illcirs  are  narrated  in  a  life-like  manner.  The 
family  are  as  individual  as  i^ossible,  and  before  long 
we  used  to  feel  they  were  as  real  friends  as  any  of 
the  people  we  met  day  by  day.  Lance,  the  chorister, 
was  our  favourite,  next  to  Felix,  of  the  boys,  and 
Gemldine,  the  lame  girl  who  became  an  artist,  of 
the  girls.  The  sclujolboys  are  as  tlelicious  as  any 
Miss  Yonge  ever  descrilx'd.  Can  we  ever  foi'get 
Lance's  famous  run  to  fetch  the  verses  which  his 
scatter-brained  friend,  Bill  Harewood,  had  left  in  the 
liollow  of  a  tree,  and  which  he  only  remombercMl  a 
few  minutes  befoit^  ^hcy  were  to  be  shown  up  in 
an  examination  for  a  schcjlarship  ?  Or  the  musical 
festival  at  the  cathedral  town  where  Lance  is  being 
educated,  or  the  famous  skating-party,  at  which 
Clement,  the  good  boy  of  \hv  family  (who  is  being 
brought  iij)  in  that  S.  Mattlu^w's  Choir  School  so 
well  known  to  us  who  icnd  Ilojyrs  (IikI  I')<ir.s), 
Clement  the  exemf)I.'n\>'  young  Catholic,  who  thinks 
his  family  hopelcbsly  (jkl-fashi(jned  and  'calhcch'als 

9 


130  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

very  slack,'  is  overcome  by  very  mild  potations,  and 
comes  home  in  a  state  ascribed  by  his  innocent  elder 
sister  to  mince-j)ies.  His  misery  and  shame  and 
Felix's  mild  lecture  are  very  good. 

Wilmet's  love-story  and  her  betrothal  to  John 
Hare  wood,  a  Major  in  the  Engineers,  his  acci- 
dent in  Egypt,  and  her  marriage  to  him  on  what 
seemed  likely  to  be  his  death-bed,  but  Avas  not — 
how  we  delighted  in  all  this  and  in  seeing  Wilmet 
subjugated,  she  who  had  ruled  her  subjects  so 
firmly ! 

Miss  Yonge  fairly  entangles  her  readers  in  this 
book  with  a  network  of  old  acquaintances :  charac- 
ters from  the  Castle-Builders,  our  friends  of  The 
Daisy  Chain,  Robert  Fulmort  from  Hopes  and  Fears, 
Countess  Kate  herself,  and  the  boy  with  whom  she 
played  at  being  Hermione  descending  to  soft  music. 
Lord  Ernest  de  la  Poer — all  these  appear.  The 
inheritance,  the  lovely  Vale  Leston  Priory,  comes 
back  to  the  Underwoods.  How  well  we  know  the 
house !  Miss  Yonge  drew  a  plan  herself  for  us,  and 
we  saw  it  exactly.  There  was  an  exquisite  church, 
and  a  river,  the  Ewe,  to  which  an  Underwood  was 
supposed  to  pay  due  in  every  generation. 

Vale  Leston  was  delightful,  and  Felix  turns  into 
a  model  squire,  restores  Church  property,  and  all 
his  family  are  very  happy ;  but  we  wish  Miss  Yonge 
had  let  us  just  see  Felix  restored,  and  had  then 
dropped  the  curtain.  Was  it  necessary  to  kill  Felix  ? 
Could  we  not  have  pictured  him  living  an  honour- 
able and  happy  life,  perhaps  with  wife  and  children? 
The  loves  of  Lance  and  Gertrude  May — who,  by  the 
way,  is  the  least  attractive  of  all  the  May  family 


'THE  PILLARS  OF  THE  HOUSE'         131 

whenever  and  wherever  she  appears — are  not  very 
interesting,  and  we  do  wish  Angela  had  not  been 
made  so  veiy,  very  '  common '  and  disagreeable  a 
young  woman.  Angela  as  a  little  girl  was  naughty, 
but  she  could  never  have  become  so  horrid  as  Miss 
Yonge  makes  her  out  to  have  been. 

However,  Miss  Yonge  did  kill  Felix,  and  dispose 
of  eveiybody  more  or  less,  and  so  made  the  Pillars 
inordinately  lengthy.  All  the  portion  which  deals 
with  the  family  at  Bexley,  the  nasty  little  town  of 
potteries,  is  excellent  and  interesting  ;  and  the 
description  of  Felix,  who,  when  his  father  was 
manifestly  dying,  insisted  on  becoming  an  assistant 
to  a  friendly  bookseller,  and  his  rise  from  this  to  the 
position  of  chief  bookseller  and  Town  Councillor 
and  editor  of  a  newspaper,  is  really  admirable.  For 
Miss  Yonge  had  a  deeply  rooted  sense  of  the  value 
of  gentle  birth  and  breeding,  of  a  public  school 
education,  of  belonging  to  a  county  family.  She 
makes  Felix  do  everything  which  she  herself  would 
most  thoroughly  have  disliked.  And  she  shows 
what  the  sacrilice  entailed.  Yet  how  different  was 
the  lot  of  Felix  in  his  town  from  that  which  woukl 
have  befallen  him,  say,  in  some  little  French  pro- 
vincial town  I  Without  in  the  least  intending  to 
prcacli,  Miss  Y(jng(;  sh(jws  us  what  ihc,  Church  of 
England  lias  done  and  does  for  England.  Even  in 
Jioxley,  Felix  and  his  brothers  were  able  to  create 
interests  for  themselves  through  the  choir  and  all 
the  multifarious  business  which  grows  up  around  ;i. 
parish  church.  Lite  was  dull  enough  in  liexley, and 
the  cravings  of  the  artistic  Ueraldine  foi-  something 
beautiful  are  not  ignored;   but  how  much  dullej-, 

U— 2 


132  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

how  much  more  circumscribed,  how  much  less  in- 
tellectual, would  it  have  been  without  the  parish 
church. 

Felix,  we  believe,  was  Miss  Yonge's  favourite 
character.  He  is  entirely  good,  yet  perfectly  natural ; 
and  he  may  not  have  been  brilliant,  but  he  was,  as 
his  biograiDher  brings  out,  a  very  able  and  an  excel- 
lent man  of  business,  and  yet,  capable  of  a  wide 
outlook,  he  could  rise  beyond  the  Bexley  Town 
Council :  he  was  a  man  of  affairs. 

Here  again,  we  have  a  great  deal  about  music. 
Felix,  the  scapegrace  Edgar,  Lance,  Clement,  were 
all  musicians,  and  Lance  was  a  bit  of  a  genius.  The 
family  are  more  artistic,  less  intellectual,  than  the 
Mays ;  their  chief  interests  are  music  and  art,  about 
which  there  is  a  great  deal.  The  Underwoods  are 
most  of  them  good,  and  Felix  becomes  a  veritable 
saint,  but  only  one  of  the  six  bi-othcrs  takes  Orders. 
The  book  is  a  romance  of  very  matter-of-fact 
drudgery,  and  Miss  Yonge's  feat  is  that  she  casts 
around  Felix  and  Wilmet's  heroic  struggles  an 
atmosphere  of  romance  ;  she  glorifies  these  sordid 
troubles.  And  although  Felix  does  become  a  squire, 
yet  he  never  becomes  rich ;  the  whole  family  con- 
tinue, after  their  restoration,  to  live  simple,  hard- 
working lives. 

Now,  this  was  doing  a  real  bit  of  work  towards 
the  establishment  of  the  kingdom  of  God.  Miss 
Yonge  was  probably  a  little  bit  afraid  of  what  she 
heard  of  Christian  Socialism  in  her  later  years,  and 
if  Felix  had  taken  the  bit  in  his  teeth,  and  had 
become  an  ardent  disciple  of  Kingsley  and  Maurice, 
his  biographer  would  have  sorely  grieved.    For  what 


'THE  PILLARS  OF  THE  HOUSE'         133 

Miss  Coleridge  says  is  surely  true,  that  '  her  char- 
acters often  walked  away  from  her.' 

But  in  this  book  she  tells  of  a  boy  of  sixteen 
gallantly  taking  on  himself  the  care  of  twelve 
brothers  and  sisters,  abandoning  any  hopes  of  a 
University  career,  taking  a  post  which  was  regarded 
in  those  days — 1854 — as  a  social  descent,  and  living 
a  pure  and  hard-working  life ;  doing  his  very  best, 
and  winning  for  himself  respect  and  a  place  as  an 
honoured  citizen. 

There  is  no  preaching  at  all ;  only  the  book  is  a 
glorification  of  honourable  poverty.  There  is  a 
writer  of  modern  novels — a  lady  who  has  sneered 
more  than  once  at  Miss  Yonge — who  in  one  of  her 
books  holds  up  exactly  the  opposite  ideal.  Her 
hero  was  also  a  child  of  gentle  birth,  who  was 
stricken  by  misfortune  of  a  physical  nature.  The 
whole  book  is  a  glorification  not  only  of  gentle 
])irtli,  ))ut  of  the  most  matci-ial  side  of  wealth  and 
all  that  wealth  brings-  gorgeous  houses,  clothes, 
horses,  even  details  as  to  the  personal  attendance 
of  the  hero's  valets.  The  hero  naturally  became 
(ixtraijrdinariiy  s(;lfish,  and  has  a  t(!rrili(!  moral 
collaj)s«^,  from  which  hv  recovers. 

Which  is  the  nobler  ideal?  Miss  Yc^iigc;  may  bo 
very  circumscribed  and  limited,  but  she  has  a  jiassion 
ff)r  goodn(^ss  wliich  ought  to  lie  I'cunemlxTcd.  Ib'i- 
ideal  was  that  the;  people  she  cared  foi'  should  use 
their  ciiciiiiistaiices,  not  allow  those  circiiiiislaiiccs 
to  be  theii   luin. 

To  UH  who  read  in  our  cai  i\-  teens  ol'  l''cli\'s  si'lf- 
dein'al  and  of  his  brothers  and  sisters  there  came  a 
sense  of  the  dignity  of  poveity,  of  the  gloiy  of  work, 


134  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

of  the  impossibility  that  a  gentleman  could  cease  to 
be  a  gentleman,  no  matter  what  his  work  might  be. 
And  there  grew  on  us  also  a  sense  that  the  Church 
was  a  great  reality;  that  Felix's  action  when  he 
came  to  his  kingdom,  in  refusing  to  be  a  lay  rector, 
was  absolutely  natural.  Perhaj^s  we  were  not  the 
worse  for  this  idealism. 

Miss  Yonge  has  been  blamed  for  her  love  of  old 
families  and  the  value  she  set  on  biith  and  breeding, 
but  she  certainly  can  never  be  blamed  for  Mammon- 
w^orship. 

This  is  the  second  of  what  we  might  call  Miss 
Yonge's  family  chronicles,  unless  Ave  count  the  little 
Scenes  cuid  Characters  as  one.  The  Mays  are  the  first 
and  the  most  generally  known,  and  then  come  the 
Underwoods. 

She  wrote  a  few  years  later  another  long  family 
chronicle,  which  never  seems  to  have  become  very 
popular — Magnum  Bonuin.  In  it  again  she  has  a  de- 
lightful doctor,  who,  however,  dies  almost  at  the  begin- 
ning of  the  story,  which  recounts  the  f oitunes  of  his 
widow  and  children.  The  said  widow.  Mother  Carey, 
is  one  of  Miss  Yonge's  most  delightful  and  natural 
people ;  but  the  story  as  a  whole  is  not  so  con- 
vincing, nor  the  characters  always,  excepting  Mother 
Carey,  quite  so  individual  and  alive  as  our  old  friends, 
and  the  episode  of  the  lost  will  is  wildly  improbable. 
The  book  reflects  the  time  in  which  it  was  written. 
She  hints  at  the  discomfort  and  discouragement 
which  upset  so  many  minds  in  the  sixties  and 
seventies ;  the  modern  spirit  was  not  ignored  at 
Otterbourne,  and  Miss  Yonge  had  travelled  a  long 
way  since  she  wrote  T'he  Heir  of  Redely ffe. 


CHANGES  135 

There  was  another  family  chronicle,  The  Three 
Brides,  which  came  out  in  the  Packet  soon  after  the 
Pillars  were  finished,  but  we  do  not  think  many 
people  would  greatly  care  for  it.  The  only  funny 
episode  is  the  extreme  horror  that  the  ordinary  man 
of  thirty  years  ago  felt  for  any  woman  who  spoke 
in  public. 

But  we  are  anticipating  a  little. 

In  1809  Miss  Yonge  paid  a  visit  to  France,  and 
stayed  with  M.  Guizot  and  his  daughter,  Mme.  de 
Witt.  Her  letters,  which  are  given  in  Miss  Cole- 
ridge's Life,  describing  this  visit,  are  most  chai'ining 
— the  most  delightful  fresh  descri|)tions  of  this 
glimpse  into  French  life  and  of  the  Guizot  family. 

M.  Guizot  was  rather  an  odd  friend  for  Miss  Yonge, 
but  she  seems  to  have  enjoyed  herself,  and  it  is  most 
sad  that  she  never  went  abroad  again ;  in  fact,  it  is  not 
only  sad,  but  al)solutel3'  ridiculous.  One  cannot  but 
feel  angry  that  some  friend  or  another  did  not 
compel  her  to  spend  a  winter  at  Florence  or  at 
Rome.     How  good  it  would  have  l)cen  for  her! 

In  18G1J  h<'r  dearest  cousin.  Miss  Anne  Yonge,  died 
very  suddenly — a  terril)le  and  irr(^)>arable  loss. 

Then  Mr.  Bigg-Wither,  who  had  been  at  Otter- 
bourne  for  thirty-seven  years,  retired,  and  Miss 
Yongf!  had  a  new  clcig^'man  and  a  chn-gyman's  wife 
to  face,  and  it  was  iiM[)os.sibl(;  but  that  changtis 
should  come. 

Miss  YoTigc;  supported  bci-  parish  ])rieHt  with  un- 
wavering loyalty,  (^ven  under  llie  Irial  of  (Jovei-n- 
mcnt  ijispcct  ion  ot"  the  sfliools,  in  wliicli  she  bad 
taiiglil  so  long,  and  of  u  lii«h  she  was  not  unnatur- 
ally proud;  and  tlic  littli-  note  of  reminiscences  eon- 


130  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

tributed  by  Mrs.  Elgee,  widow  of  Mr.  Bigg-Wither's 
successor,  is  very  touching.  Miss  Yonge  wrote  to 
Mr.  Bigg-Wither  every  Sunday  until  his  life  ended. 

Another  change  came  into  her  life  in  1873. 

Miss  Gertrude  Walter,  the  sister  of  Mrs.  Julian 
Yonge,  came  to  live  with  her  at  Elderfield.  Miss 
Walter  seems  to  have  been  full  of  intellectual  in- 
terests, and  to  have  given  Miss  Yonge  intense  affec- 
tion and  much  help.  At  the  same  time,  her  presence 
in  the  little  house  hept  other  people  away,  as  there 
was  absolutely  no  room  for  a  guest ;  and  as  she 
became  a  complete  invalid,  much  anxiety  and  fatigue 
ensued  for  Miss  Yonge.  But  probably  the  gain  of  a 
sympathetic  companion  was  more  than  compensa- 
tion for  the  disadvantages — and  they  were  quite  real 
ones — of  this  arrangement.  Certainly,  no  one  can 
restrain  the  w^ish  that,  as  time  went  on.  Miss  Yonge 
had  had  more  intercourse  with  her  superiors  in  in- 
tellect ;  that  she  had  seen  more  of  the  world  of 
Oxford  and  of  London  ;  that  she  had  had  more 
natural  links  with  people  of  light  and  leading. 
Miss  Coleridge  and  others  could  not  do  as  much  for 
her  as  thej^  might  have  done  owing  to  this  isolation 
at  Otterbourne.  Miss  Coleridge  was  really  the  only 
author  of  any  distinction  whom  she  frequently  saw, 
and  to  be  surrounded  by  a  circle  of  admirers,  all 
decidedly  inferior  to  oneself,  is  good  for  no  one.  If 
only  she  had  had  someone  sufficiently  near  her  own 
age,  and  of  superior  mental  power,  to  criticize  her 
and  tell  her  when  she  was  writing  too  much,  the 
gain  would  have  been  great. 


CHAPTER  IX 

MISS  WORDSWORTH'S  VISITS 

(1872—1873) 

Miss  Elizabeth  Wordsworth  came  to  stay  with 
Miss  Yonge  some  time  in  the  seventies,  and  one  can 
only  wish  the  elder  author  had  seen  a  great  deal 
more  of  the  much-loved  Principal  of  Lady  Margaret 
Hall,  to  whom  we  may  apply  what  was  said  of  some- 
one else,  '  To  love  her  is  a  liberal  education.'  Miss 
Wordsworth  has  generously  given  an  account  of  her 
visit,  which  can  be  quoted  here: 

'  Otterbournk, 
'May,  1872. 

'  Well,  dear  .  .  .  here  I  am  at  last,  and  seize  the 
opportunity  of  my  hostess  being  gone  out  to  do  a 
littio  school  teaching,  to  write  to  you. 

'  I  had  a  lovely  and  enj(jyable  journc}',  and  liad 
the  pleasure  of  seeing  a  brougham  with  Miss  Yonge 
inside  it  drive  up  just  at  t  Ik*  moment  our  tiviin  was 
stopping.  Sheand  t  he  coachnian  actualiyconf  rived 
to  takf;  me  and  all  my  luggage,  and  we  liad  a  phea- 
sant drive  thrniigh  a  coiinli'y  of  l)udding  oak- 
thicketsarul  hanks  ol' wild  Mowers, antl  just  in  front 

l.i? 


138  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGP] 

of  us  a  beautiful  rainbow  very  low  down  in  the  sky. 
1  cannot  describe  the  exquisite,  soft,  half -rainy, 
half-sunny  colouring.  All  this  time  I  felt  extremely 
shy,  though,  of  course,  we  both  of  us  talked  liard^ 
as  shy  people  are  apt  to  do,  and  I  confess  my  feel- 
ing was,  "  What  shall  I  do  if  she  goes  on  in  that 
voice  for  the  next  three  or  four  days  ?"  One  felt 
inclined  to  speak  like  a  hospital  nurse  oneself. 
Afteiwards  we  made  an  expedition  (rather  under 
difficulties)  into  the  garden  to  try  and  hear  the 
nightingales ;  but  it  was  a  very  rainy  afternoon, 
and  we  took  refuge  in  the  drawing-room — a  long, 
low  room,  lined  with  books  and  with  a  few  nice 
prints.  My  eye  was  almost  at  once  caught  by  a 
very  fine  impression  of  Dtii-ei's  "  Knight  and 
Death  "  (hanging  close  to  two  photographs  of  the 
San  Sisto).  Of  course  I  ejaculated  ;  and  she  said, 
"  Oh,  that  was  picked  up  by  my  father  when  he 
was  in  Paris.  I  think,  considering  he  was  only 
twenty,  it  showed  very  good  taste."  Then  ofp  we 
went  about  Ruskin — "What  a  mistake  to  think  he 
is  a  had  knight " — Sintram,  of  course,  etc.,  etc. ; 
and  having  once  got  fairly  started,  we  went  on 
about  all  sorts  of  things  (how  they  were  connected 
it  is  really  hard  to  remember) — Nuremberg,  Paris 
(the  only  foreign  place  she  had  ever  been  to) ;  the 
two  things  that  interested  her  most — the  Con- 
ciergerie  and  the  Louvre ;  especially  one  little 
Murillo  of  our  Lord  looking  on  S.  Peter.  .  .  . 
Then  we  went  for  a  most  delicious  stroll,  some- 
thing like  the  Wytham  woods,  where  there  were 
patches  of  bluebells  and  many  other  exquisite 
things,  in  order  to  fill  our  baskets  with  some  moss 


MISS  WORDSWORTH'S  VISITS  189 

for  church  decoration.  Then  to  the  church  for 
service;  congregation — a  man,  a  little  girl,  and 
ourselves. 

'The  church  is  in  that  dreadful  early  modern 
Gothic,  the  churchyard  very  pretty.  Then  tea  in 
the  drawing-room;  my  hostess  looking  more  Hke 
an  old  French  marquise  than  ever  in  a  red  and 
black  Dolly  Yarden  dress,  with  pink  skirt.  I  must 
get  a  sketch  of  her  in  that  particular  costume. 
Alas !  I  never  did.  After  tea  she  provided  herself 
with  a  pair  of  scissors,  and  some  of  those  cards  of 
Sundaj'-sfhool  texts  which  have  to  be  snipped  up, 
and  I  got  my  knitting,  by  way  of  fancying  we 
were  industrious  ;  and  she  volunteered  to  read  me 
Keble's  review  of  the  Life  of  Walter  Scott  in  an 
old  British  Critic.  We  must  have  read,  I  think,  at 
the  rate  of  a  i)agG  an  hour,  as  we  went  oif  into 
interminable  discussions  about  everything,  and, 
of  course,  a  gi'cat  deal  of  laughing  and  nonsense. 
How  all  the  subjects  got  togcthei-  I  can't  think. 
However,  in  the  course  of  it  she  got  down  a  copy 
(jf  the  Faerie  Queen  (which  had  been  given  by 
Mr.  Ke})le  to  his  wife  before  they  were  married, 
and  used  to  be  their  tiavf^llingconijianion),  with  a 
nic(^  litthi  note  in  it  from  Mrs.  Kibble's  sister, 
desiring  her  acceptance  of  it.  Something  in  the 
reading  about  the  ])eauty  of  Walter  Scott's  ])r()s(i 
made  me  UKiiition  Dr.  Wluiwell,  jind  his  delight  in 
tliat  fine  passngc^  in  7'hc  y\  nfi(/ii(iry  nl)(»u1  a  sloiiny 
sunset  .mimI  a  fallen  inonni'di  (early  in  cliapler 
vii.).  Of"  <-ourse  fliat  bad  ti>  be  l<)<)k(Ml  out  and 
read!  \V(^  bad  been  lia\ing  some  fun  about  llie 
Coxe  and   Max   Midler  school,  and   their  way  ol" 


140  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

disposing  of  all  the  old  legends  as  myths  about 
the  sun  and  clouds ;  and  she  amused  herself  by 
turning  the  whole  passage  into  a  sort  of  allegory 
about  Louis  XIV. ;  laughing  at  her  own  thoughts 
in  the  way  people  do  when  a  fresh  combination 
comes  into  their  mind.  I  never  knew  a  face  that 
it  was  greater  pleasui'e  to  watch,  and  certainly 
never  saw  any  woman  (or  many  men)  who  seemed 
so  perfectly  untireahle.  I  dare  say  she  finds  it 
rather  lonely,  though  there  is  a  mairied  brother 
and  family  of  children  whose  garden  joins  on  to 
this.  We  were  talking  about  something  or  other, 
and  she  said,  "Two  things  everyone  ought  to  be 
taught — to  write  a  letter,  and,  if  they  have  been 
anywhere,  to  describe  it."  I  said  :  "  Well,  I  don't 
mind  about  the  letter,  but  it  is  not  so  easy,  when 
you  come  home  tired,  to  give  a  long  account  of 
your  doings."  "  Well,  it  is  far  worse  to  come  home 
and  have  no  one  to  care  ^vhat  you  have  been 
doing."  She  seems  very  fond  of  the  nephews  and 
nieces,  and  is  at  this  moment  taking  the  place  of 
a  knocked-up  governess,  though  rather  in  despair 
over  a  child  who  "  has  just  reached  that  distress- 
ing stage  when  they  know  their  alphabet  perfectly 
well,  and  will  go  on  saying  the  instead  of  the." 
All  this  energy  seems  so  strange  after  the  poor 
X's.  [invalid  friends].  By  the  way.  Miss  Yonge 
mentioned  quite  casually  that  she  had  read  through 
the  ivhole  of  the  Faerie  Queen  as  a  girl,  just  because 
she  liked  it ;  and  made  a  manuscript  translation  of 
I  Promessi  Sjjosi  for  the  benefit  of  her  father,  who 
could  not  understand  Italian,  and  liked  to  have  a 
bit  every  night.  .  .  .' 


tHAKl.cJlll.     MAKV    \ONOh. 


To  /luc  page  140. 


MISS  WORDSWORTH'S  VISITS  141 

The  letter  ends  here,  but  Miss  Wordsworth  adds 
some  jourriiil  notes  as  well : 

'  Wednesday,  May  8,  1872. — Church  decorating 
(at  home)  with  C.  M.  Y.  We  each  did  a  cross  for 
the  two  sides  of  the  altar — yew,  bay  leaves,  and 
rhododendrons.  Her  cross  was  broken-backed,  and 
had  to  be  supported  by  various  devices.  First  I 
suggested  crinoline  wire  (which  was  ineffectually 
tried) ;  then  she  went  and  hunted  up  a  garden- 
spud,  which  she  stuck  triumphantly  at  the  back, 
and  which  she  was  sure  "wouldn't  show."  Pre- 
sently in  comes  her  brother.  "  I  think,  Julian,  we 
shall  stand  these  on  two  hassocks  to  make  them 
taller."  "  You  might  just  as  well  stand  them  on — 
mashed  potatoes."  This  was  quite  too  much  for 
my  gravity.  He  waited  for  some  time  while  we 
jiiadc  a  wreath  with  wet  moss,  flowers,  and 
greenery  for  the  font.  .  .  .  Went  into  church  and 
arranged  our  crosses.  Little  girl  bringing  hemlock 
flowers.  Nearly  robbed  the  garden  of  its  boautiiul 
lilac  clematis.  I'\meral  came  in  the  midst  of  our 
<)perati(jiis. 

'  Tkurnday,  May  U.-  After  the  usual  festival  ser- 
vices I  left  her,  regretting  she  had  proofs  or  some- 
thing  to  do,  and  could  not  come,  too,  and  walkctl 
up  to  the  little  common.  Gorse  most  brilliant' 
beautiful  distances,  birds  singing,  milkwort  on  the 
turf,  and  a  thousand  other  delights — a  place  in 
which  to  feel  the  true  spirit  of  Asccnsi(jn  Day! 
Six-  nnist  liaA'c  be(!n  at  work  at  this  time  on  The 
I'll/a  IS  of  f/ir  //oj/.sr,  I'oi-  at  dinner  she  said  :  "1  do 
HO  want  a  coinic  song.    Can  you  help  me?    1  don  t 


U2  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

know  any  music,  and  am  not  in  the  way  of  hearing 
such  things.  I  want  Angela  to  sing  one  on  the 
river."  "  Would  '  Not  for  Joe '  do  ?"  "  Oh  no,  that 
is  too  common,  I  think."  "  Well,  I  wonder  if  this 
would.  It's  dreadfully  vulgar,  but  the  children  in 
the  Children's  Hospital  at  Nottingham  used  to 
sing  it  : 

"  '  Six  o'clock  is  striking  : 

Mother,  may  I  go  out  ?'  etc." 

' "  Oh,  that  will  just  do,  because  the  bargemen 
can  take  it  up  and  answer  her  again.  I  shall  be 
so  much  obliged  if  you  will  dictate  it  to  me  this 
evening."  Which  I  accordingly  did,  both  of  us 
greatly  amused. 

'  Drove,  or  rather  were  driven,  to  Hursley  in  a 
low  open  carriage,  by  the  road  along  which  the 
body  of  Ruf  us  was  brought.  Talked  of  Miss  Mac- 
kenzie and  missions. 

'  Just  as  we  were  getting  into  the  village,  I  ex- 
claimed at  the  beauty  of  a  lane  with  light  green 
foliage.  "  Ah,  I  have  often  thought  I  would  go 
down  that  lane,  but  I  never  have  yet.  Certainly 
the  road  did  not  look  inviting.  Stopped  outside 
the  lych-gate.  Church  very  beautiful  with  its 
cross-lights— the  font  especially  so ;  Keble's  grave 
and  his  wife's;  wreath  at  the  head,  I  think,  of  both. 
We  stood  there  some  moments,  she  telling  me  of 
his  funeral  day,  the  comfort  the  early  service  had 
been  ;  a  butterfly  in  the  church  ;  brass  slab  where 
the  coffin  rested.  I  thought  she  rather  would 
have  preferred  a  grass  grave  to  the  marble  ones, 
especially  as  she  had  told  me  at  another  time,  with 


MISS  WORDSWORTH'S  VISITS  143 

enthusiasm,  of  an  Indian  Sultana  whose  one  wish 
was  that  the  grass  should  grow  over  her  grave. 

'  Drove  back  through  park.  Deer.  Anipfield 
Church.  Something  of  this  sort  of  conversa- 
tion on  our  way  through  the  wood :  C.  "  This  is 
quite  a  typical  Ascension  Day ;  these  gleams  are 
so  much  more  beautiful  than  fixed  sunshine." 
E.  "  One  always  fancies  it  was  the  same  time  of 
year  in  the  Holy  Land,  but,  of  course,  the  season 
was  more  advanced  there " 

'  Ampfield  Church  stands  on  a  rise.  Drinking- 
fountain  below,  with  verses  by  Lady  Heathcote. 
Went  up  and  looked  round  the  churchyard.  "  When 
Miss  (R.)  Kingsley  was  here  she  seemed  to  know  the 
note  of  every  bird."  Got  into  the  carriage  again,  and 
drove  on  through  a  road  among  woods.  Admired 
the  larches.  "  As  you  like  this  so  much,  I  must 
take  you  to-m(^rrow  to  one  of  my  favourite  places 
for  bluebells.  1  think  we  should  have  time  in  the 
morning.  Yes,  this  is  very  pleasant  English 
scenery.  1  like  it  better  than  a  'crack  couii (!■,>,' 
where  you  are  always  being  (h'agged  up  or  down 
iiill.  What  1  do  dislike  are  caves.  There  is  one 
wheie  I  go  and  stay  sometimes  in  Devonshire,  and 
a  sensation-novel  lady  [Annie  Thomas]  introduced 
it  into  oiH!  of  her  books,  TImmhosI  iin|»robaMe  bit 
in  tlic,  book  was  (oddly  enough)  tiu^  <>'ily  i\uv  one 
— that  the  cave  had  a  door  with  a  lock  and  key," 
Apropos  of  something  I  suit!  :  "  Yes,  there  ought 
to  be  a  novelists'  hiwycr.  Sir  .Jolni  Coleridgti 
looked  over  all  the;  law  in  'J'/ir  Triitl  for  me.  He 
took  nio  to  the  I'ortland  I'rison,  and  made  all  sorts 
of  inquiries  in  my  presence  as  if  for  his  own  edi- 


144  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

fication.  Mr.  Koupell  was  there,  so  it  was  easy  to 
ask  questions  about  the  treatment  of  a  man  of 
education.  .  .  ." 

'In  the  evening  she  gave  me  a  beautifully  printed 
copy  of  Potter's  ^schylus  to  look  at.  "  Do  read  it 
it  out  loud.  I  am  sure  you  will  enjoy  it  more." 
HoAN'ever,  as  I  was  rather  tired,  she  read  me  some 
of  Baring-Gould's  poems :  "  The  Three  Crowns," 
"  Bishop  Benno  and  the  Frogs  " — a  very  clever 
thing — etc.  She  reads  unaffectedly  and  with  a 
good  deal  of  spirit,  and,  like  all  good  readers,  does 
not  come  between  you  and  the  subject. 

'  Friday. — Went  for  our  bluebell  walk.  It  was 
thorough  enjoyment,  I  think,  to  both  of  us.  She 
seemed  to  delight  in  the  red  colouring  of  the  docks 
— a  great  sweep  of  w^  hich  lay  across  the  landscape 
— and  young  oak-trees  ;  then  there  were  greyish- 
blue  lakes  of  wild-hyacinths  among  the  stems  to 
our  left — a  peewit  Hying  about  in  a  sort  of  broken 
hollow  to  our  right,  and  a  strange  croaking 
creature  whose  bodily  form  could  not  be  discovered. 
Promised  me  some  flowers  to  take  back  to  West- 
minster Hospital. 

'  In  the  afternoon  took  me  to  St.  Cross  in  the 
open  carriage.  Sand-martins,  rooks,  etc.  Agreed 
in  our  views  about  Butterfield  having  ruined  the 
place.  Cardinal  Beaufort  (about  whom  she  was 
disposed  to  be  enthusiastic) ;  old  silver  crosses 
handed  down  from  time  immemorial.  Peeped 
into  Winchester  Cathedral  for  a  moment;  through 
the  nave  and  out  at  door  on  the  south ;  spoke  to 
verger  about  choral  festival.  She  seemed  proud 
of    knowing    all    the    byways    to    the    Awdrys. 


MISS  WORDSWORTH'S  VISITS  145 

Mrs.  A.  doing  illustration  for  a  lecture.  Dr. 
Ridding's  Athenian  sketches,  C.  Y.  raving  about 
the  beauty  of  our  morning  walk.  As  we  drove 
back,  we  talked  of  Mr.  Butler  of  Wantage.  C. 
"Well,  he  is  very  delightful  to  nie,  and  yet  he 
gives  me  more  snubs  than  anj^body.  I  shall  never 
forget  how  he  scolded  me  once  for  dining  out  on  a 
Friday.  You  would  be  surprised  how  much  there 
is  in  Mrs.  Butler.  She  is  so  much  taken  up  with 
making  both  ends  meet — I  mean  in  keeping  such 
an  establishment  going — that  she  has  hardly  time 
for  anything  else  ;  but  she  knows  so  much,  and 
has  great  depth  of  character."  General  Wilbraham 
passed  us  on  the  road.  His  daughters  nursing  an 
old  aunt. 

'  Home  too  late  for  church,  so  dressed  early  and 
had  such  an  evening  !  My  hostess,  as  I  see  her  in 
my  mind's  eye  dying  on  the  sofa  under  the  San 
Sisto  picture,  in  the  Dolly  Varden  dress  aforesaid, 
and  showing  a  very  pretty  pair  of  feet  in  white 
open-work  stockings),  and  I  on  the  other  side 
"capping  Miss  Austen  con  amove"  C.  "One 
thing  I  always  think  so  much  to  her  credit :  she 
gives  you  a  great  deal  of  costume,  and  it  is  never  in 
the  way.     You  know  her  nephew  says  she  never 

was  in  love  ;  but (name  foigoHcMi)  told  quite 

a  romance  about  her:  her  riKM^liiig  with  some 
Welsh  squire,  who  paid  her  marked  attentions, 
and  was  always  expected  to  come  forward,  wluni 
it  turned  out  he  was  d(^a(l."  1  said,  I  bch'eve,  that 
I  did  not  t  liink  f^isiidsinii  (-(jiild  liav(?  been  written 
by  a  person  wbo  b.-nl  not  been  in  love.  (\  "A\'li.'it 
was  the  gooti  ol'  1  lie  sl(»r\-  of  M  r.  I'lliot  ( I  snpposcj 

10 


146  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

he  was  necessary),  and  Mrs.  Clay?  How  much 
one  sees  the  improvement  in  society  since  those 
days  !  Lydia  going  off  without  ever  having  been 
married — even  the  Mrs.  Bennets  of  these  days 
would  have  felt  it.  Then  poor  Colonel  Brandon's 
situation.  I  knoio  a  Mrs.  Palmer  !  How  cleverly 
Harriet  Smith  is  drawn !  One  feels  the  utter 
hoi^elessness  of  ever  making  anything  of  her. 
The  sentimental  young  lady  of  those  days — Miss 
Lily  Black  in  Inheritance.  Her  letter  first-rate. 
Isn't  it  good  in  Mansfield  Park  where  Mrs.  Rush- 
^vorth  (that  is  to  be)  complains  of  her  aunts 
'  sponging '  on  Mr.  R. !  I  always  read  Miss  Austen 
to  people  of  the  present  generation  who  don't 
appreciate  her  "  (taking  down  a  copy  to  see  what 
Miss  De  Bourgh's  name  was).  "  I  had  been  positive 
it  began,  instead  of  ending,  with  H."  In  answer 
to  a  question  of  mine  :  "  Emma  ?  Oh  yes,  I  know 
Mr.  Knightley's  Christian  name.  Don't  you 
remember  when  she  says,  '  I  called  you  George  to 
see  if  you  minded  it"?  How  good  that  scene  is 
where  Miss  Bates  talks  to  him  out  of  the  window ! 
My  mother  and  I  took  warning  by  that  when  we 
first  came  to  live  here,  and  determined  ive  never 
would  be  so  caught." 

'I  said  I  always  thought  Fanny  Price  had 
brown  eyes.  "  Oh  no.  Don't  you  remember  when 
Edmund  had  to  learn  to  prefer  soft  blue  eyes  to 
sparkling  black  ones?  I  think  I  know  exactly 
what  Fanny  looked  like,  with  curls  making  an 
ogee  arch  over  her  forehead." 

'  Talked  about  Charlotte  Bronte.  "  How  wrong 
it  was  letting  the   brother    stay  at   home    and 


MISS  WORDSWORTH'S  VISITS  147 

coarsen  those  "girls'  minds  !  You  see  the  traces  of 
it  in  Jane  Eyre.     Villette  is  better." 

' "  Apropos  of  reviews,  Annie  Thomas  once 
asked  me,  '  How  do  you  feel  when  they  cut  you 
up?'  It  was  such  an  awkward  question.  I  said, 
'  Well,  at  all  events  I  don't  cry  over  them  all  day, 
as  Charlotte  Bronte  did.  I  was  so  angry  the  other 
day.  In  a  story,  some  gentleman  says  to  a  lady, 
'Well,  ^vould  you  like  me  to  turn  good  and  build 
a  church  like  one  of  Miss  Yonge's  heroes  ?  Now, 
I  never  did  make  my  hero  build  a  church,  except 
Mr.  Ernsclifte,  and  that  was  after  he  was  dead." 

'  One  of  the  most  amusing  things  was  to  hear 
her  giving  an  account  of  the  plot  (some  of  it)  of 
The  Pillars  of  the  House.  It  was  exactly  as  if 
she  was  explaining  the  involutions  of  some  real 
piece  of  history,  and  she  was  quite  as  much  in 
earn(^st.  I  dare  say,  if  I  had  b(Hni  there  longer,  I 
should  have  had  a  gr(\'it  deal  more  of  t]u\  same 
kind,  for  .she  evidently,  when  the  first  shyness 
was  over,  liked  talking  over  her  people.  Natiirlich  ! 

'Another  night  T  had  made  some  riuotation 
from  George  Eliot  {Adam  licde)  about  ancestral 
features  without  ancestial  qiialities.  C  "Oh 
yes,  of  course  I  remember  that  !  .  .  .  T  wondcM- 
no  one  has  r^ver  written  a  poem  on  the  (Icatli  of 
Loreir/o  (b^  M('(lifi." 

'I  had  been  with  her  some  tinic  in  tln'  luuise 
before  I  ventured  to  ask  her  about  »iny  of  Ikt  own 
things.  Tfowtivor,  one  evening  as  we  wer<'  at 
suppfM*,  F  asked  bei'  if  Lady  Keith's  death*  had 
been  diawn  from  real  life. 

*    In  Tin'  C/rrrr   \]'iii)i(iii  of  Ihr  /'iniii/i/. 

10—2 


1 18  CHAELOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

'  Instead  of  her  replying,  nnliickily,  a  crumb  got 
do^v^l  her  throat,  and  she  began  to  choke  so 
genuinely  that  I  did  not  know  whether  to  be  more 
frightened  or  amused ;  and  it  was  some  time 
before  1  got  my  answer — in  the  negative. 

'  Afterwai'ds  from  time  to  time  she  volunteered 
a  good  deal.  About  one  poor  girl  who  fell  in  love 
Avith  Ethel,  in  The  Daisy  Chain,  and  wrote  to  the 
author,  saying  "  You  are  the  mother  of  all  my 
good  thoughts."  Translations  :  One  French  trans- 
lator would  turn  Guy  into  Walter ;  another  would 
call  Averil  Lucie,  or  some  such  name,  instead  of 
Everilda,  which  it  really  was.  "Oh,"  I  said,  "I 
always  fancied,  as  you  had  got  so  many  Mays,  you 
thought  it  only  right  to  have  April,  like  the  old 
rhyme, 

'  "  March  borrowed  from  Averil/  etc." 

'  "  No,  that,  somehow,  never  came  into  my  head." 
'  She  evidently  feels  very  much  having  no  one 
to  take  an  interest  in  these  things  ;  and  talked  a 
great  deal  of  her  own  family — some  cousins  who 
had  been  like  sisters,  and  were  now  no  more  (one 
who  used  to  tell  her  about  Lady  Anne,  a  favourite 
old  child's  book  I  happened  to  mention),  and  we 
got  quite  confidential  over  family  histories.  I 
said  we  had  really  never  known  what  sorrow  was. 
She  answered  very  touchingly, "  And  you  will  find 
it  is  much  better  than  you  think." 

'I  showed  her  one  of  my  father's  letters;  she 
looked  at  it  with  interest.  "  Ah,  I  have  nothing 
of  that  sort.  My  letters  used  to  be :  '  Dear  Char- 
lotte, I  am  coming  home  to-night  at  six.     Your 


MISS  WORDSWORTH'S  VISITS  149 

affectionate,'  etc."  C.  "  My  father  died  of  apoplexy ; 
there  were  two  strokes,  with  a  few  days  between. 
We  had  no  clergyman  with  us.  I  read  the  Com- 
mendatory Prayer.  Afterwards  Mr.  Bigg-Wither 
came  in,  and  read  us  the  fifteenth  chapter  of 
Corinthians.  It  was  kindly  meant,  but  a  great 
strain.  Then  those  kind  Kebles  came  over,  and 
did  everything  they  possibly  could.     I  never  was 

a  nurse,  and  did  much  better  than  my  brother 

or  I  could."  But  she  seemed  to  look  back  on  that 
sorrow  as  not  so  hard  to  bear  as  her  mother's 
illness,  with  its  long,  gradual  breaking  up  of  a 
character  that  had  been  so  congenial.  (They  seem 
to  have  seen  everything  in  the  .same  way,  and  the 
same  absurd  likenesses  in  people,  like  the  game  in 
The  Pillars  of  the  House,  which  they  appear  really 
to  have  played.) 

' "  The  first  coming  home  with  nt)body  to  wel- 
come you !  One  uH  my  cousins  contrived  to 
spare  me  that.  Now  I  have  got  used  to  it,  and 
go  and  look  wliat  letters  there  are.  .  .  .  One 
of  the  things  that  made  me  take  to  you  lirst 
«jf  ail  was  seeing  how  imicli  you  looked  up  to 
your  father."  This  was  in  answer  to  somctiiiiig  I 
had  said  about  wishing  she  could  know  him,  as 
slu!  secsmed  to  miss  Kebh;  so  much  ;  oi',  if  1  re- 
member the  words  rightly:  "Ah,  wlien  one's 
master  is  taken  awny  fiom  one's  head  I  ' 

'Altogether,  this  our  hist  evening  was  one  of 
our  nicest.  She  scenKul  to  let  you  see  so  much  ol" 
her  ical  hcait  and  feeling,  expressed  almost  as 
much  l)y  th(!  Hushing  of  Im'I-  face  and  (he  vai-ying 
chaiacter  of  licr  luown  e.>  es,  with  t  heir  dilVcit^nt 


150  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YOINGE 

looks  of  almost  tears,  sparkle  of  fun,  eagerness  of 
observation,  far-away  yearning  (especially  some- 
times out  of  doors),  and  the  charming  play  of  her 
month,  as  by  anything  she  says. 

'  It  is  a  great  pity  one  who  is  really  so  loving 
and  lovable  should  not  be  able  to  show  it  except 
to  the  very  few  wdio  have  the  chance  of  getting 
intimate  with  her.  I  think  she  must  have  felt 
this  herself,  to  judge  by  the  ^vay  she  spoke  of  Miss 
Austen's  alleged  reserve  in  society.  .  .  .  As  I  think 
she  said  herself,  only  not  quite  in  those  words, 
"  Self -consciousness  is  a  misfortune,  not  a  fault." 

'Friday. — Went  to  church  9  a.m.  As  we  got 
out  afterwards,  she  amused  me  by  saying :  "  Do 
tell  me.  Is  my  hat  on  hind  side  before  ?  I  have 
had  such  horrid  misgivings  about  it."  Luckily,  it 
was  all  right.  Aftei-  breakfast  she  went,  I  think, 
to  her  school,  I  to  my  packing. 

'  Apropos  of  an  emerald  ring  :  "  I  think  all  the 
Otterbourne  children  of  this  generation  will  asso- 
ciate the  '  rainbow  round  about  the  throne '  with 
this  ring," 

'  When  I  had  done  packing,  I  found  her  armed 
with  a  large  photograph -book  of  friends  and 
relations,  which  she  show  ed  me.  I  forgot  to  say 
how  much  talk  we  had  had  about  Bishop  Patte- 
son,  iiishop  Selwyn's  log-book,  and  Melanesia 
generally,  on  which  she  is  employed  just  now. 
Also  a  great  deal  about  the  Old  Testament — 
David  iind  S.  John  (of  course  con  amove),  some  of 
this  out  walking  ;  the  40tli  I'salm  — Keble's  trans- 
lation of  "  Mine  ears  hast  thou  opened,"  and 
much    more.      But  as  we    hardly   ever    stopped 


MISS  WORDSWORTH'S  VISITS  151 

talking  during  the  four  days  of  my  visit,  it  is 
obviously  impossible  to  put  down  everything. 
One  day  she  took  me  into  her  bedroom,  a  small 
room  with  a  look-out  on  laurel-bushes,  and  I 
sliould  think  an  excellent  place  for  observing 
birds.  "  Tod  als  Freund "  over  the  bed's  head. 
We  talked  a  little  about  it.  "  And  Alice  Moberly 
happened  to  have  done  me  this  text,  'At  evening 
time  it  shall  be  light,'  so  that  fitted  in  beautifully." 
Picture  of  an  old  owl,  "  which  I  remember  as  long 
as  I  can  remember  anything";  photographs;  a 
picture  done  by  her  mother  for  stained  -  glass 
window ;  family  portraits. 

'  She  docs  all  her  work  in  the  drawing-room,  the 
chief  peculiarity  of  which  is,  there  is  no  piano. 
Over  the  chimney-piece,  her  father  in  the  centre, 
Lord  Seaton,  Keble,  Sir  W.  Heathcote,  all  by 
Ric-hmond  ...  a  fine  jirint  of  Millais'  Huguenots 
in  another  part  of  the  room ;  the  two  San  Sisto 
groups— how  she  did  talk  to  me  about  the  cherubs  ! 
Death  and  the  Knight ;  a  print  from  the  Vision 
of  S.  Augustine  (S.  Lawren(;e,  S.  Katharine,  etc.), 
about  which  she  was  vciy  ehxpient  ;  and  I  (liink 
a  Cuyp,  or  something  Cuypish,  on  one  side  of  (lie 
tiro ;  and  at  the  foot  of  the  sofa,  anil  close  to  the 
fire,  a  window  with  scjmclhiiig  green  peojjing  iii, 
and  a  view  of  llu;  roa<l  uphill  to  (lie  comnion.  On 
the  otli(!r  sid(!  of,  and  at  liglit  angles  to,  tli«i  I'wo 
three  windows,  and  near  the  fail  best  her  writing- 
table,  with  a  han«l_>-  <hiironiei-  with  ciiphoa  nl  lor 
wast(!-pa|)er,  jiastt^  etc. 

'  In  t  he  miildle  of  <  he  mom  a  talile  with  some 
Mowers,  ill  w  hicli  she  <'vident  l_>'  took  great  pride  — 


152  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

Solomon's  seal,  picked  in  our  walk.  Well,  all 
pleasures  come  to  an  end,  and  so  did  this.  If  any- 
thing could  have  made  parting  pleasant,  it  would 
have  been  the  genuine  affection  of  her  farewell. 

'  I  paid  her  another  visit  in  1873,  of  which  the 
following  is  a  slight  record  : 

'  Thursday,  May  29.— To  Chandler's  Ford.  C.  Y. 
waiting  at  the  station  for  me.  Drove  a  little  way, 
then  got  out  and  walked  through  a  wood  some- 
thing like  Buckland  Covert.  She  noticed  the 
curious  growth  of  the  fir-cones  coming  at  the 
joints  of  the  branches.  Some  must  have  been 
there  several  years.  Talked  in  a  desultory  way. 
Somehow  Jean  Ingelow  came  up.  C.  admired 
Off  the  SkelUgs,  also  her  part  of  One  Story  by  Tivo 
Authors  (Margaret),  which  I  think  she  said  was 
"how  I  first  became  acquainted  with  her.  She 
was  very  angry  because  I  would  cut  out  so  much 
of  the  other  author's  part."  Stopped  to  look  at  a 
snake  running  away  in  the  broken  ground,  and 
told  me  a  story  of  some  Colonial  Bishop  being 
stung  by  a  viper  here  in  England.  Came  down  by 
the  road,  leaving  Hursley  Pai"k  on  our  left.  Pretty 
groups  of  children  in  the  late  afternoon  light. 

'  Friday,  30th. — Paid  calls  in  Winchester.  To 
cathedral  service.  Old  arches  outside  recently 
discovered.  C.  Y.  "  I  remember  when  these  were 
first  found.  I  was  quite  a  girl,  and  very  enthusi- 
astic, saying  to  Mr.  Keble :  '  Well,  I  think  this  is 
the  greatest  event  that  has  hapi^ened  in  Win- 
chester for  many  years.'  He  gave  me  one  of  his 
funny  looks.  '  Oh  no,  Charlotte  !  Don't  you  think 
the  greatest  event  was  Canon  Carus's  coming  ? ' " 


MISS  WORDSWORTH'S  VISITS  153 

'  After  service  showed  me  the  font.  Something 
Hke  the  Lincohi  one.  Was  very  much  shocked  I 
had  not  been  to  the  cathedral  "  since  you  came  to 
your  senses.  Well,  we'll  make  a  point  of  it  next 
time  you  come." 

'  On  the  Saturday  we  had  a  grand  church- 
decorating,  and  I  was  amused  at  the  energetic 
way  she  set  to  work,  carrying  a  large  basket 
on  her  arm  into  the  church,  and  subsequently 
dusting  and  scrubbing  the  dai'k  oak  carving 
inside  the  altar  rails.  Afterwards  we  paid  a  visit 
to  Miss  Walter,  who  had  got  downstairs  on  to  the 
sofa. 

*  Sunday,  (Whit  Sunday)  we  had  a  great  deal 
of  Sunday-school,  etc.  I  never  saw  a  woman  who 
seemed  to  mind  noise  so  little,  and  the  same  thing 
struck  me  when  wo  were  travelling  the  next  day. 

'  Sunday  Afternoon. — "  Now  I  must  go  and  write 
my  weekly  letter  to  Mr.  Wither."  However,  she 
hung  about  by  the  door,  talking  about  prayer 
apropos  of  a  story  of  Bishop  Pattcson  having  once 
r'scapcd  a  gretit  dangci',  and  finding  afterwards 
that  })is  old  goveriuiss  had  boon  |)raying  for  him 
all  night.  I  said  tlie  obvious  thing  :  "  Why,  then, 
did  he  get  killed  at  last  ?"  and  the  obvious  remarks 
to  and  fio  were  made.  [  said  :  "  At  last  one  comes 
to  pray  for  nothing  but  sj)iiitual  things,  except, 
])erhaps,  jicople  <jne  lov((s."  Ji\  "And  success." 
C.  "Yes,  '  I'rosper  Thou  our  handywork,'  that 
waH  always  a  favourite;  text  of  niiiuv  J  Ijuuty  (jod 
encour/igcH  pcoph;  })y  sru-ondaiy  motives  while 
th(;y  are  young,  .-ind  by  degi-ees  wit  h<l  raws  tlnun, 
treating  us  like  <  hlMicn."     (.\l  another  lini(!  she 


154  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

said :  "  I  have  had  a  gieat  deal  of  affection  in  my 
Kfe,  but  not  from  the  people  I  cared  for  most.") 

'  Showed  me  an  autograjih  of  Keble  with  what 
he  called  "  his  motto "  (from  George  Herbert), 
"  Love  is  a  present  for  a  mighty  King,"  stuck  in 
Christian  Year,  I  think.  After  tea  she  got  into  a 
corner  of  the  sofa  by  the  little  window  already 
mentioned,  close  to  the  fire,  and  I  sat  at  the  head 
and  looked  over  her  photograph  copy  of  Lyra 
Innocentium.  I  made  her  read  me  several :  the 
one  for  the  day,  and,  "  What  I  care  for  more,"  for 
Whitsun  Eve,  about  the  cooing  of  the  dove  ;  also 
"  Where  is  the  brow  to  wear  in  mortals'  sight  ?" 
We  began  with  the  one  for  Whit  Sunday,  and,  as 
she  said,  it  rather  seemed  to  have  been  done  for 
the  sake  of  getting  the  children  in  somehow, 
whereas  the  "  Eve  "  was  his  own  self  completely. 

'  Among  the  photographs,  one  of  Era  Angelico's 
face  struck  me.  I  think  she  said  she  had  got  it  in 
Paris.  It  had  all  the  air  of  being  a  portrait — the 
mouth  so  characteristic.  I  said,  however,  I  wished 
the  upper  part  had  more  the  air  of  one  who  had 
gone  through  some  intellectual  struggle.  It  looked 
undeveloped.  How  could  one  get  sympathy  from 
such  a  man  ?  This  led  to  a  very  interesting  dis- 
cussion as  to  whether  one  must  be  able  to  he  a 
thing  in  order  to  enter  into  it.  "  I'm  sure  I  don't 
think  I  could  have  been  as  good  as  "  (I  think  she 
said)  "  some  of  my  own  characters.  Take  courage, 
for  instance.  I  know  I'm  an  arrant  coward.  How- 
ever, you  may  say  that's  a  mere  matter  of  physical 
nerve."  I  mentioned  a  paper  I  had  seen  in  Mac- 
millan  by  Mr.  Ilutton,  where  he  says  Tennyson's 


MISS  WORDSWORTH  S  VISITS  155 

Northern  Farmer  was  drawn  from  the  outside, 
and  Tithonus  from  the  inside.  And  this  led  us,  of 
course,  to  Shakespeare,  especially  Hamlet,  whom 
one  felt  he  had  drawn  from  within.  C.  "  I  fancy 
him  a  mixture  of  Hamlet  and  Sir  John  Falstaif. 
Now,  Othello,  I  think,  is  from  the  outside."  Then 
we  went  on  to  "  Middlemarch  "  and  the  wonderful 
portraiture  of  Lydgate.  AVhere  did  she  get  her 
medical  knowledge  from  ? 

'  I  said  something — I  forget  exactly  what — about 
the  effect  of  great  events  in  forming  great  literary 
characters.  What  would  Shakespeare  have  been 
if  he  had  not  lived  in  an  heroic  age  ? 

'  C  "  But  sometimes  the  crisis  comes,  and  there 
is  no  great  man  to  rise  ujj  to  it.  Now,  for  instance, 
who  is  there  ?    Perhaps  the  greatest  intellect  of 

the  age  is  Dr.  Newman.     But "     "  But,"  I  said, 

"  perhai)s  his  intellect  is  too  strong  iov  his  naliue.'' 
And  we  digressed  a  little  on  that  subject,  iind  got, 
somehow,  to  self-consciousness,  \Nhether  it  was 
the  effect  of  the  character  or  the  epoch.  "  Bishop 
Patteson,"  she  said,  "  was  a  remarkably  self-cou- 
sci(jus  man.  It  was  one  of  his  great  trials,  liii 
sure  Ulysses  Wiis  self-conscious."  (I  could  not 
agree  to  this.)  C.  "  I  should  say,  now,  that  Eu- 
ripides was  self-conscious,  and  yEschyliis  no(." 
'*  ^'<'s."  "And  Cicero?"  "Oh  yes,"  I  said  ;  "  u  by, 
he  was  just  as  much  ovei-<'i\  ili/.ed  as  ourselves." 
('.  "  Do  yon  know  a  j)assag(5  in  one  of  AlissSewell's 
book-,  in  wliidi  sIk;  says  of  a  i>reUy  gii'l :  '  She  was 
nf)t  vain,  but  sIk;  wouMn'l  lia\c  bked  any  of  liei" 
lathers  lal)onrers  to  pass  ber  witbont  noticing 
hei'r"     1  said  :     ()r  like  Maggie  in  The  Mill  on  I  In: 


156  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

Floss,  who  didn't  like  the  gipsies  not  to  think  her 
a  clever  little  girl."  C.  "Well,  you  know,  I  feel 
like  that  girl  of  Miss  Sewell's,  I  am  afraid.  I  don't 
like  it  if  people — not  snub  me,  exactly,  but  don't 
give  me  my  due.  The  other  day  I  was  going  over 
a  cathedral  with  a  lady  who  certainly  had  all  the 
right  to  respect,  and  I  found  my  remarks  treated 
with  the  utmost  contempt.  I  fancied  we  had  been 
mistaken  one  for  another,  and  afterwards  found 
it  was  the  case.     People  do  all  they  can  to  spoil 

you "      "  And  then,"   I   said,  "  are  the  first  to 

turn  round  on  you  for  being  spoilt."  "  Yes.  But, 
now,  what  should  you  have  thought  of  Miss  Strick- 
land going  over  a  show  place  and  leaving  a  message : 
'  Tell  the  Duchess  I  have  been  here  ;  she'll  like  to 
know  it '?  I  don't  like  butter,  but  I  must  say  I 
like  approbation.  What  should  you  think  of 
people  when  they  come  and  say,  '  I've  been  want- 
ing to  see  you  so,  I've  heard  so  much  of  you,'  and 
so  on?"  "Oh,"  I  said,  "if  you  did  that  to  me,  I 
should  butter  them  again  so  thickly  that  they 
should  see  I  was  chaffing  them.  But  I  should 
hope  they  would  have  the  good  taste  not  to  do 
so."  "  Very  few  people  have  good  taste.  I  am 
getting  hardened  now,  and  don't  mind  it  as  much 
as  I  did.  Of  course,  now,  if  I  met,  say,  one  of 
your  sisters,  and  said  I  wanted  to  see  her  so,  it 
would  be  quite  natural,  because  I  knew  you.  But 
supposing  one  met  George  Eliot  or  Mrs.  Oliphant, 
of  course  it  would  not  be  the  same  thing  ;  and  yet, 
you  know,  one  likes  to  be  approved  of — when  one 
wiites  a  fresh  thing  to  know  it  is  not  a  falling 
off."    Something  made  me  say  :  "  I  suppose  a  great 


MISS  WORDSWORTH'S  VISITS  157 

success  almost  always  brings  a  great  shadow  with 
it.  It  seems  as  if  God  would  not  alloAv  people  to 
have  their  heads  turned — if  they  were  good,  at 
least."  I  believe  she  assented.  "  Ah,"  she  said, 
evidently  thinking  of  herself,  "  a  lonely  old  age  is 
a  sad  thing."  She  was  apparently  haunted  by  her 
mother's  six  months'  imbecility,  for  she  added  :  "  I 
hope  I  shall  keep  myself.  Mj^  mother  got  so  rest- 
less ;  she  was  never  quiet  five  minutes.  We  could 
not  keep  her  in  bed  at  night.  If  I  went  down 
to  get  my  dinner,  she  could  not  bear  me  out  of  her 
sight  However,  I  do  not  think  my  constitution 
is  like  hers.  The  other  side  of  our  family  is  more 
for  sudden  deaths."  A  good  deal  of  this  conversa- 
tion took  place  in  the  dusk,  when  people  generally 
get  confidential ;  and  she  went  on  about  her 
f/ither's  sym])t()ms,  and  a  little  tendency  to  gout 
she  had  been  feeling.  "  People  often  think  I  must 
be  very  dull  here,  and  want  me  to  go  and  live  in 
Oxford."  I  forget  exactly  at  what  part  of  the 
convers.'ition  I  had  ])oggod  her  to  go  for  a  wijilcr 
in  Rome — it  seemed  such  a  pity  for  people  who 
knew  and  cared  about  the  i>lace  not  to  see  it. 
"  Well,  tlie  Ileathcotes  wanted  mo  to  go  last 
winter,  but  I  declined.  Thon^  H(U'msso  nuich  to  do 
here;  and,  with  an  old  mind  like  iiiinc,  i(  is  dilli- 
cult  to  take  in  fresh  impressions." 

'  I  have  forgotten  a  good  do.nl  ol"  this  c<)nvei*sa- 
tiou  now,  but  T  shall  iicv(U'  forget  her  ey<'s,  spark- 
ling lik(!  diamonds,  <!specially  by  cnndlelighl, 

'Wo  Htarted  togcjthcr  by  tr/iin  the  lu^xt  <lay, 
antl  travelled  a  short  distanct;  tog(!th(M-.  She*  was 
going  to  see  Miss  Dyson,  "  tlie  mothei'  of  Guy." 


158  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

"  You  must  come  again,  you  know ;  you  seem 
quite  to  belong  now  to  Ascension  Day  and 
AVhitsuntide."  We  had  several  other  meetings 
after  this,  but  I  fear  I  have  not  kept  a  record  of 
them.' 

Another  friend  of  Miss  Yonge's  was  Mrs.  Gibbs, 
the  wife  of  Mr.  William  Gibl)s,  whom  all  Church- 
men gratefully  remember.  The  visits  to  the  home 
at  Tyntesfield,  of  which  she  writes,  '  The  beautiful 
house  was  like  a  church  in  spirit,  I  used  to  think,' 
were  a  great  pleasure.  She  writes  from  Mr.  Gibbs's 
house  in  1872 : 

'J.  F.  O.  [Bishop  Mackarness]  slept  here  last  night 
to  assist  at  the  ojDening  of  Mr.  Randall's  church 
at  Clifton,"  to  Avhich  we  have  been  this  morning. 
The  Bishop  of  Salisbury,  Dr.  Moberly,  preached 
most  beautifully  about  the  Shadow  and  the  Image. 
Mr.  Skinner  is  also  here  for  it  ...  .  Those  who 
stayed  for  the  luncheon  are  full  of  enthusiasm, 
and  say  it  was  most  successful,  and  that  the  two 
Bishops  spoke  in  perfection  in  their  several  ways  ; 
but  Archdeacon  Dcnison  seems  to  have  almost 
demolished  poor  Dr.  Moberly  with  the  noise  he 
made.  This  is  a  holy  and  beautiful  house  to  be  in, 
with  Blanche's  almost  unearthly  goodness  and 
humility,  and  her  husband's  princely  nobleness. 
.  .  .  He  still  reads  the  lessons  in  chapel,  and  with 
beautiful  expression.  Just  fancy  what  it  was  to 
hear  him  read  the  last  chapter  of  Ecclesiastes,  the 
spirit  so  rising  above  the  infirmities !     He  wants 

♦  The  beautiful  Church  of  All  Saints,  wliich  has  been  so  great  a 
blessing  to  many  souls. 


MISS  WORDSWORTH'S  VISITS  159 

to  build  rt  church  here  for  the  district,  also  a 
private  chapel,  licensed  for  H.  C.  But  the  Rector, 
a  very  low  and  slovenly  Churchman,  will  not 
consent ;  thou<^h  the  Bishop  [Bath  and  Wells]  has 
been  talked  to  by  our  Bishop  and  him  of  Ely,  he 
will  not  or  cannot  abide  it.  As  to  the  chapel,  there 
came  a  letter  two  days  ago,  saying  "  he  would  do 
ever3'thing  in  his  power,"  but  it  is  much  feared 
that  this  means  only  a  licence  for  the  Holy 
Communion,  not  permitting  anyone  not  in  the 
house  to  receive.  It  is  celebrated  now  in  the 
Oratory,  l)ut  with  a  sense  that  it  is  ii-rogular  and 
might  be  stojipcd  when  nobody  is  reallj^  ill.     How 

Mr. and  the  Bishop  can  take  advantage  of  the 

scrupulous  forbearance  they  meet  with,  I  cannot 
think.' 

And  another  interest  was  Wantage.  The  sister  of 
Mrs.  Butl(!r,  Miss  Barnctt,  was  one  of  Miss  Yonge's 
later  c<)rresj>()iid(nits,  and  Miss  Yongc;  was  an 
Exterior  Sister  (jf  Wantage  from  18C8.  SIk;  speaks 
of  the  Dean  as  being  almost  one  with  the  '  Mighty 
Three,' and  that  Wantage  was  '  almost  a  Theological 
College,  so  many  nu^n  were  trained  there.' 

Wantage  stands  for  so  much  to  us  of  the  English 
Church,  and  the  Community  of  S.  Mary's,  WaMtagt% 
seems  to  have  b(;en  one  of  the  most  richly  l)l(!SHed  of 
those  Comniiiiiil  ics  which  have  given  back  to  ns  th(^ 
idea  of  the  licligious  Life  for  women.  Wantage  is 
linked  also  with  tin;  ('omiinniity  of  S.  John  the 
Evangelist  at  Cowley  ;  and  wIkmi  it  is  rememl)eivd 
how  greatly  she?  can'd  for  missions,  it  is  indeed 
thankwoi'thy  to  reaMzc^  that  Mi^s  ^^»n;^'(•  iiad  this 
connection  with  Wantage'. 


CHAPTER  X 

BOOKS     FOR     CHILDREN — RELIGIOUS     BOOKS — LATER 

YEARS 

(1873—1901) 

Miss  Yonge  began  in  the  seventies  to  write  the 
series  of  histories  for  children  known  as  Aunt 
Charlottes  Stories.  There  are  volumes  on  Scripture, 
English, French,  German,  Roman,  and  Greek  history. 

There  are  such  numberless  books  of  elementary 
history  nowadays  that  it  is  probable  these  are 
out-of-date.  Yet  they  are  exceedingly  good  in 
plan,  and  the  ones  on  English  history  and  Scripture 
history  do  really  lay  foundations  for  more  advanced 
books.  The  one  on  German  history  is  perhaps  the 
least  successful.  Miss  Yonge  also  wrote  the  charm- 
ing Evenings  at  Home,  on  the  plan  of  the  old 
favourite  of  bygone  years. 

Her  industry  was  extraordinary.  Mr.  A.  J.  Butler 
speaks  somewhere  of  the  incredible  diligence  of  the 
Middle  Ages,  but  Miss  Yonge's  powers  of  work  seem 
to  us  as  wonderful  as  any  medieval  scholar's.  She 
had  a  knack  of  writing  three  books  at  a  time,  a 
page  of  one  and  then  a  page  of  another,  and  then 
a  third,  while  the  first  two  dried,  which  is  awe- 
inspiring  even  to  read  about ;  and  her  interest  in  all 
her  work  was  unbounded  and  ever  fresh. 

160 


BOOKS  FOR  CHILDREN  101 

111  the  seventies  Miss  Yoiige  wrote  several  short 
stories— P's  and  Q's,  for  instance,  which  is  a  delight- 
ful account  of  a  younger  sister  who  decides  she  is 
'  put  upon  '  b^^  her  excellent  elder  sisters.  There  is 
in  this  book  one  of  the  pleasantest  of  Miss  Yonge's 
schoolboys.  She  also  tried  her  hand  on  a  bit  of 
melodrama — Lcuhj  Hester — which  is  very  readable, 
but  higlily  improbable;  and  strange  as  it  is  that  such 
a  word  sliould  ])e  a])ph('aljle  to  anything  Miss  Yonge 
wrote,  it  is  somewhat  disagreeable — not,  however, 
from  any  love-stoiy.  Mtj  Voiuicj  Ale  ides  is,  on  the 
other  hand,  to  our  thinking,  as  iniprol)able  as  Lady 
Hester,  but  as  charming  as  Ladi/  Hester  is  unpleasant. 

She  also  edited  translations  from  French  memoirs. 

Now  we   must  speak   of  more  directl}^  religious 
work.    Five  little  books  of  (juestions  on  the  Collects, 
Epistles,  Gospels,  Psalms,  and   Prayer   Book,  were 
written  by  her  for  her  own  Otterbourne  children, 
and,   wliere    the   Catechism    has   not   replaced    the 
Sunday-school,  these  books  might  be,  and   pci'haps 
ai"e,  still  useful  to  people   who  wish   lo  follow  (he 
Church's   guidance   and    teach    tluwr    childi-en    the 
lessons  of  Collect  and  (jrosj)el,  of  tin;  I'rayei-  Book 
and   Psalter.     'J'here  are  no  answers,  and  thty  are 
m<vint  to  aid  tlu^  t<!aclior  in  cpiestiouing  a  class  of 
orderly   children    who  hav<>  read    theii-    (fospol    or 
lOpistle,    oi-    leaiiiid     their   Collect,   and    who   have 
liibles  ill    their  hands  to  which   to  refer.     And,  by 
the   wa\,   would   it   not   be  possible    for   us,   who  ho 
passionately    ci-y    out     for    religion-,    teaching,    to 
organize?  classes  alike  in  couiil  ry  and  town  on  some 
weekdays,  and  (aice  again  get  into  individual  touch 

11 


162  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

with  Church  children?  With  the  Catechism  on 
Sunday  and  some  individual  teaching  in  the  week, 
a  great  deal  may  be  done,  and  it  is  a  great  pity  not 
to  read  the  Bible  with  children  and  young  people. 
The  old-fashioned  Bible-class  has  been  dropped  far 
too  much  by  some  who  are  very  zealous  for  distinc- 
tive Chvirch  teaching,  and  it  is  sad  that  so  many 
children  are  allowed  to  drop  out  of  the  Catechism 
or  the  Sunday-school,  and  are  not  carried  on  to 
really  good  definite  Bible  and  Church  history  in- 
struction in  classes  Avhich  are  classes,  not  merely 
instructions,  sometimes  very  feeble  instructions,  by 
a  clergyman.  Miss  Yonge  in  her  own  day  laid  her 
children's  foundations  deep  and  strong. 

As  one  turns  over  the  Questions  on  the  Gospels,  one 
sees  how  thoroughly  taught  the  children  would  be 
Avho  had  read  the  Gospel  and  had  been  questioned 
on  it  in  the  way  she  laid  down.  These  little  books 
would  be  quite  useful  to  mothers  who  teach  their 
own  children. 

Scripture  Readings  for  Schools  and  Families,  with 
Comments,  began  to  appear  in  1871. 

They  are  selections  from  the  Bible  itself,  and  are 
intended  to  serve  as  readings  for  children  from 
seven  to  fourteen  years  of  age. 

'  Actual  need,'  she  writes,  '  has  led  me  ...  to 
endeavour  to  prepare  a  reading-book,  convenient 
for  study  with  children,  containing  the  very 
words  of  the  Bible,  with  only  a  few  expedient 
omissions,  and  arranged  in  Lessons  of  such  length 
as  by  experience  I  have  found  to  suit  with 
children's  powers  of  accurate  attentive  in- 
terest. .  .  .' 


RELIGIOUS  BOOKS  laS 

The  Scripture  portion,  witli  a  very  few  notes 
explanatory  of  mere  words,  is  bound  up  apart,  to  be 
used  by  children ;  while  the  same  is  also  supplied  with 
a  brief  comment,  the  purpose  of  which  is  either  to 
assist  the  teacher  in  explainin^i:  the  lesson,  or  to  be 
used  by  more  advanced  youn<^  people. 

The  Readings  are  quite  unique  ;  there  is  as  yet  no 
other  book*  at  all  on  the  same  plan,  and  the  know- 
ledge and  reverence  shown  in  the  comments  are 
exactly  what  would  bo  expected  from  the  writer. 

But  it  is  to  be  feared  live  thick  volumes  are  alarm- 
ing to  the  ordinary  parent,  and  yet  anyone  who 
began  on  the  Old  Testament  side  by  side  with 
Gospel  Tliiu's,  which  leads  on  to  Ajyosfolir  Times, 
Avoidd  find  it  not  at  all  imi)()ssible  to  work  through 
Old  and  New  Testament  alike  in  three  or  four  years' 
steady  reading. 

The  spac(?  between  the  Old  and  New  Testaments 
was  not  left  unbiidged  l)y  Miss  Yonge,  and  her 
readers  are  guide<l  through  the  finer  portions  of  tlie 
Deutero-Canonical  books,  an<l  are  not  left  in  ignoi- 
ance  of  Judas  Maccabeus  and  of  the  heroic  mother 
of  the  seven  sons. 

Of  course,  the  chief  (lef(!ct  of  these  volumes  is  that 
all  modern  criticism  is  absolutely  ignored;  but  foiall 
that  t}H\v  contain  a  wonderful  amount  of  informa- 
tion, and  tlie  plan  of  th<i  books  is  excellent  so 
excellent  that  Professor  Huxley  praised  it  as  an 
examphi  f)f  liow  the  Iiil)le  slionM  be  !-(>ad  in  schools. 
I-*(irhaps  the  coiiiiiir'ntM  on  I  hi-  (iospel  story  ai"e  a 
little  long  and  ;i  lit  t  Ic  (iull.  I»u1  we  are  sure  1  ha  (   1  hey 

♦  Since  tliis  w.ih  wriUcn  llio  pn-xt'iit  writrr  lias  |Mil(lisliccI  ;i 
vohime  of  '  Itilile  RcmliiitrM  with  roniment'* '  (Mo\vlirav«). 

11-2 


161  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

would  lielp  many  a  mother  or  govei'ness  who  wishes 
to  read  the  life  of  Christ  with  her  pupils.  The  Old 
Testament  comments  are  often  spirited  and  illu- 
minating, if  we  remember  the  standpoint  from  which 
they  are  written. 

There  is  always  in  her  comments  a  deep  sense  of 
the  moral  truth  underlying  all  the  history,  and  of 
the  real  value,  purpose,  and  meaning  of  the  Old 
Testament. 

A  later  book  was  pviblished  in  1888,  Conversations 
on  the  Prayer  Book  ;  it  came  out  first  in  the  Moiithly 
Packet,  and  is  a  perfect  mine  of  infoimatioii.  The 
book  is  in  the  form  of  conversations,  and  conversa- 
tions seem  to  be  a  little  out  of  favour  nowadays. 

Nevertheless,  Miss  Yonge's  book  might  be  read 
^vith  much  advantage  by  people  just  before  or  after 
their  Confirmation.  For  quotation,  the  conversation 
on  the  subject  of  Confession  which  occurs  in  the 
chapter  on  '  The  Visitation  of  the  Sick '  is  an  excel- 
lent example  of  Miss  Yonge's  teaching. 

Eailier  than  this  is  the  volume  of  Beginnings  of 
Church  History,  and  it  is  most  useful  as  a  summaiy 
of  the  Acts.  But  no  one  could,  we  think,  read  it 
through  consecutively.  It  is  very  long.  The  best 
way  of  using  it  is  to  have  it  as  a  reference,  and 
read  cliapters  from  it  from  time  to  time  in  illus- 
tration of  history.  The  chapters  on  Charles  the 
Great,  for  instance,  would  be  excellent  to  read  on 
Sunday,  when  the  weekday  history  lessons  had 
touched  on  that  monarch,  and  so  on. 

Mothers  who  try  to  teach  schoolboys  a  little 
European  history  in  the  holidays  will  find  in  it,  as 
in  all  Miss  Yonge's  books,  an  extraordinaiy  amount 
of  information,  and  a  sense  of  God's  purpose  work- 


RELIGIOUS  BOOKS  165 

ing  in  the  Church  of  God ;  of  the  real,  deep,  under- 
lying unity  of  the  Church ;  of  the  truth  that  the 
history  of  the  Church  in  the  most  modern  days  is  a 
continuation  of  the  story  which  was  begun  on  the 
Day  of  Pentecost,  and  will  end  when  '  He  conies  to 
judge  the  quick  and  the  dead.' 

Musings  on  the  '  Christian  Year,'  bound  uj)  ^^  itli 
Gleanings  of  RceoUcetions  of  the  Rev.  John  Kehle, 
appeared  in  1871.  We  have  already  spoken  of  and 
quoted  from  the  Recollections  of  Keble.  They  and 
the  Musings  came  out  in  the  Packet.  The  Musings, 
or  Meditations,  on  the  '  Christian  Vear'  iwc  beautiful. 
When  we  remember  tliat  the  writer  sat  so  long  at 
Keble's  feet  and  drank  in  all  that  he  could  teach  her, 
we  feel  no  one  could  be  a  more  fitting  interpi-eter. 
Alas!  s<j  few  of  us  find  time  on  Sundays  to  read 
even  oui*  Christian  i'ear,  nuich  h'ss  to  glance  at  the 
comment.  Ilut  snrt'ly  vxi'vy  now  .ind  then  I  lie 
Musings  migiit  accompany  our  reading,  tor  tlu',\' 
bring  us  into  the  atmosj»liere  of  the  Christ iim  War, 
so  calm  and  l)racing  and  sobering. 

For  a  specimen  we  will  give  part  ol"  the  comment 
on  the  beautiful  poem  for  Easier  Ev<Mn  the  Chris- 
tian  i'rar.     Miss  Vonge  writer  : 

'  In  a  verse  of  (ixtraordin.iiy  be.nily  u f  a)«'  (bus 
exhorted  : 

'  "  Wlieii  tearH  an-  spent,  ami  IIkmi  art  left  alone 

Willi  j^liostw  Iff  lilc'.siiKJM  fioup, 
Tliiiik  tliou  art  tikeii  fntiii  tin*  cross,  arnl  laid 

III  .Fesiis'  Inirial  sliaile  ; 
Take  Mokc-h'  rod,  tlio  rod  of  prayor,  and  call 

( 'lit  of  tlie  rocky  «all 
Tlic  fount  of  lioly  Idoorl  ;  and  lift  on  liif^li 
lliy  gru\elliii({  ^uul  tliat  feeds  so  dcsulalc  and  dr).  ' 


160  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

'  For  thou  art  in  this  rocky  wilderness  of  a 
world  a  prisoner  of  hope,  who  should  turn  and 
look  to  the  stronghold  of  Zion  above,  singing  in 
hope  of  the  promise  of  the  future.  Joseph,  his 
father's  darling,  lay  imprisoned  in  the  pit,  not 
knowing  how^  he  should  be  saved,  but  sure  that 
God  would  save  him ;  and  so  "a  man  should  both 
hope  and  quietly  wait  for  the  salvation  of  the 
Lord."  For  this  is  what  it  is  to  be  "  buried  with 
Christ  in  baptism  by  His  death,"  to  be  dead  with 
Him  to  the  world,  and  our  life  hidden  with  Him.' 

In  1877  appeared  Womankind,  with  which  many 
of  us  had  made  acquaintance  in  the  Monthly 
Packet.  This  is  a  volume  of  essays  on  the  life  of 
women  who  belong  to  the  leisured  classes,  and 
abounds  in  practical  good  sense  and  deep  religious 
feeling.  A  good  deal  of  it  is  quaint  and  decidedly 
old-fashioned.  The  chapter,  perhaps,  which  most 
excited  ungodly  mirth  in  one's  mind  is  the  one  on 
dress ;  yet  how  full  of  good  sense  the  book  is ! 
Perhaps  Ave  who  were  just  growing  up  in  the 
seventies,  and  were  adorers  of  Miss  Yonge,  found 
it  easier  to  take  these  admonitions  as  they  were 
showered  upon  us  each  month  than  if  we  had  had 
them  given  to  us  in  a  book  of  decidedly  dull 
appearance,  and  certainly  some  of  us  thankfully 
acknowledge  that  we  were  and  are  the  better  for 
Womankind. 

How  good  much  of  it  is  now  !  The  protest  against 
mothers  who  contrive  that  all  their  grown-up 
daughters'  time  should  be  frittered  away  in  writing 
invitations  and  arranging  flowers ;   the  words  on 


RELIGIOUS  BOOKS  167 

culture,  on  how  to  see  sights,  and,  to  pass  to  a 
perfectly  different  subject,  on  'spiritual  direction' 
— how  excellent  they  all  are!  To  this  day  one  is 
thankful  to  have  read  in  one's  youth : 

'  Of  all  hateful  kinds  of  gossip,  one  of  the  most 
shocking  is  that  about  the  different  ways  of  con- 
fessors. It  is  not  only  irreverent,  but  a  dishonour- 
able breach  of  sacred  confidence.  The  j)riest  is 
boinid  to  absolute  secrecy  with  regard  to  his 
penitent;  the  penitent  is  just  as  much  so  with 
regard  to  any  peculiarities  of  his.  Besides,  where 
can  the  real  penitence  be,  if  there  is  levity  enough 
to  make  such  observations  ? 

'  Again,  we  know  how  the  poor  ])l('ad  that  they 
do  not  sec  that  such  and  such  a  person  is  the 
better  for  going  to  church  or  being  a  comnumi- 
cant,  and  bring  up  all  his  faults  against  him. 

'  It  is  the  same  witli  tiiosis  who  are  known  to  be 
ill  th(^  liabil  of  using  Confession.  The  world  lias 
laid  hold  of  a  trutii  here.  They  ought  to  be  better 
than  other  people,  or  else  they  bring  scandal  on 
their  ])|-of(!ssi<)n. 

'  liclatioiis  ar(^  (piick  to  note  the  i-rrors  of  one 
another,  especially  if  their  notions  are  not  the 
same,  and  outbreaks  of  temper,  s<fl(isliness,  evil- 
speaking,  oi'  worldliness,  will  be  cited  as  jiroofs  of 
tbe  incomix'teiicy  of  tiie  system  that  has  not 
cured  them. 

'Now,  ill  - 1  eni|Hr  is  sonietiines  a  bo(lil\  or 
nervous  alTeet  ion  .  .  .  ])ut  I  he  ot  lier  faults  are  all 
wilful  ones,  and  t  ln-ir  (•<  ml  iuuanee  uurepressjMl  can 
only  spring  eil  her  Ironi  dishonest  confessions,  from 


168  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

want  of  earnestness  in  following  out  the  remedies, 
or  from  that  terrible  levity,  before  mentioned, 
which  presumes  on  pardon — to  go  on  in  sin.  There- 
fore the  person  who  is  not  striving  to  improve 
under  this  system  is  in  the  double  danger  which 
is  enhanced  by  all  misused  helps.  .  .  . 

'  Nor  does  spiritual  guidance  at  all  mean  putting 
oneself  into  the  hands  of  one  who  will  exact  blind 
obedience  ^ — exercise  priestcraft,  as  it  is  called. 
Such  influence  as  we  were  reminded  of  in  Domhie 
Freyltnghausen*  exists  wherever  there  are  weak 
women  and  ministers  Avho  try  to  rule  them.  The 
Pharisees  devoured  widows'  houses.  And  there 
were  those  in  8.  Paul's  time  who  led  captive  silly 
women.  Moliere  has  shown  oif  a  Tartuffe,  iind 
Dickens  a  Gradgrind.  But  these  men  (Tartuffe, 
Gradgrind)  prevailed  by  flattery  and  outward 
show,  not  by  the  stern  and  strictly  guarded  rela- 
tions of  priest  and  penitent.  The  leading  is  not 
an  attempt  to  direct  in  the  common  ways  of  life, 
but  an  assistance  in  dealing  with  sins,  and  in  rising 
to  higher  and  deeper  devotion.  To  those  who  feel 
the  exceeding  danger  of  drifting  into  bad  habits 
and  worldly  customs,  and  heaping  sin  upon  sin 
for  want  of  warning,  it  is  an  inestimable  boon, 
supplying  the  lack  of  those  voices  of  home  whose 
praise  or  blame  were  our  "waymarks  sure"  in 
our  childhood. 

'  If  we  look  at  biography,  we  shall  find  religious 
melancholy  far  more  common  among  those  who 

*  A  really  (;harniiiijf  story  of  the  Dutch  settlers  in  America,  by 
Miss  ^^'ilford.  It  came  out  in  the  Packet  in  the  early  seventies. 
Tartuffe  was  surelva  layman. 


RELIGIOUS  BOOKS  169 

try  to  do  everji;hing  for  themselves,  trusting 
merely  to  their  own  sensations,  than  to  those  who 
have  kept  to  the  way  traced  by  our  Lord  for  His 
Church,  in  which  is  found  the  constant  joy  of 
pardon  and  peace.' 

Of  course,  much  of  ]Vo7nankind  is  quite  out  of 
date.  Women  can  go  about  alone  in  London,  and 
may  even  smoke  cigarettes,  without  ceasing  to  be 
well-bred  and  good  people  And  Miss  Yonge's  views 
on  medical  education  for  women  are  absolutely 
wrong,  as  she  would  be  the  first  to  acknowledge  now. 

There  are  some  words  on  uiuU'rdoiiigaiid  undoing, 
which  Ave  (piote,  as  mucii  to  tiic  point  now  as  when 
they  were  first  wi-itten. 

'Talk  is  one  of  the  great  enemies  of  living  a  wise 
and  nscfnl  life.  It  is  oven  more  a  snaic  lo  the 
grown-up  woman  than  to  the  child.  .  .  . 

'To  many  womc^i,  especially  those  who  h.ivo 
belonged  to  lai'ge  fainili<\s,  one  conl  inn.il  stre;nn 
of  passing  ehal  t  cr  seems  a  necessary  ol"  life.  The\' 
ar-e  iinha|)|iy  \\  Ik-ii  a  |i  iiic,  and  ca  nm  )t  -al  ,it  home, 
for  want  of  soni<'otn'  to  speak  to." 

MisH  Yonge  shows  us,  howes  f-r,  the  other  --ide: 

'Conversation  is  <'nii)hat  icaily  an  art  to  h(^ 
slnijifij  tor  hiinir  consumption  ...  it  is  a  <hitv 
...  to  shai-e  in  convcrsalion  and  talk  witli  lull 
spirit  and  inti'T'csl.' 

.\  nd  we  an  1st  (plot  c  a  not  In 'r  word  in  the  chapter 
on   i  lealt  h  : 

'  To  f  he  in  \  a!  id,  \\  ho^<'  .sc//  is  so  painlidl  v  present 
in  |)ain,  weakness,  or  laswitude,  shall  I  \cntiii-e   to 


170  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

say  anything  that  has  not  been  much  better  said 
in  the  books  I  mentioned  ? 

'  Yes,  one  word  I  will  try  to  say.  Perhaps  you 
are  grieved  at  feeling  yourself  so  unlike  the  gra- 
cious invalids  you  read  of,  so  loved  by  all.  You 
feel  it  very  hard  and  neglectful  if  you  are  left 
alone,  yet  you  do  not  know  how  to  bear  with  the 
others  when  they  come,  and  you  are  glad  when 
you  can  manage  to  be  only  dull,  not  snappish. 
People  petted  you,  and  thought  nothing  too  much 
for  you  when  you  were  very  ill ;  now  that  illness 
is  permanent  they  are  getting  tired  of  you,  when 
you  really  want  them. 

'  There  is  nothing  for  it  but  to  dwell  more  and 
more  on  Him  who  is  shutting  you  into  your 
chamber  to  commune  with  Him.  Dwell  on  His 
love  and  His  sufferings  for  you,  and  you  will 
find  it  easier  to  give  the  love  and  sympathy  that 
will  draw  others  to  you,  and  do  your  best  to  be 
of  some  use  to  someone.  .  .  .  You  can  do  easy 
matters  the  busy  have  no  time  for ;  you  can  be 
their  memory,  send  kind  messages  .  .  .  write 
letters  that  sometimes  are  much  valued.  It  is  the 
old  story  so  often  enforced  in  parable  and  allegory : 
our  cross  grows  lighter  so  soon  as  we  set  our  hand 
to  aid  in  bearing  that  of  another.' 

Womankind  concludes  with  a  beautiful  chapter 
on  '  Going  in.'    She  writes  : 

'  I  meant  when  I  chose  this  title  .  .  .  that 
riding  on  the  crest  of  the  wave,  and  then  begin- 
ning to  fall  below  it,  which  must  befall  many 
of  us.' 


KELIGIOUS  BOOKS  171 

We  are  sure  much  of  what  she  says  in  this  is 
wrung  out  of  her  own  experience.  She  speaks  of 
the  trial  which  conies  to  most  who  have  been  suc- 
cessful and  who  iind  others  going  beyond  them. 

'We  enjoy  progress,'  she  writes,  'as  long  as  we 
go  along  with  it,  but  there  often  comes  a  time 
when  the  progress  gets  beyond  us.  And  then  ! 
Are  we  to  be  drags,  or  stumbling-blocks,  or  to 
tlirow  ourselves  out  of  the  cause  altogether?  .  .  . 

'  What  shall  we  say  ?  Each  generation  must 
think  for  itself,  and  each  will  best  love  all  that 
was  the  achievement  of  its  ])rime.  The  i)ower  of 
sympathy  witli  what  lies  behinil  us,  and  what 
advances  beyond  us,  is  very  different  in  different 
persons. 

'Some  young  people  treat  all  that  their  elders 
thought  or  (lid  as  (^Id-world  rubbish,  barel}'  tole- 
rate their  mothers,  and  openly  contemn  their 
aunts.  These  will  advance  the  shortest  dislaiut; 
of  all,  and  be  the  very  first  to  ho  stranded  .ind  left 
behind  breathless,  grumbling  and  scolding  at  tlu? 
wave  which  pass(!s  Ix^yond  them,  for  their  powers 
and  symi)athies  are  the  shallowest  and  wenkest. 

'  Others  have  a  deep  lovo  of  I  he  i»ast,  and  si  i  iUc 
their  roots  far  down;  they  honour  and  feel  witii 
thosf^  who  have  built  the  st(*j)s  on  which  lh(\\' 
stand,  and,  striking  ;i  just  balance  between  oM 
efforts  and  n(!W  culture,  life's  expei'iences  mid 
hoj)e's  intuit  ioMH,  I(!l  tiuunscilves  Ix^  guided  on  so 
far  that  their  own  spring  forward  .  .  .  and  their 
pow«'r  of  going  along  uit  h  tlu;  coming  generation 
are  much  greater.  .  .  . 


172  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

'  A  welding  together  of  the  new  and  the  old  is 
the  thing  needful.  Not  that  the  young  should  treat 
everything  old  as  worn  out  and  ridiculous.  It  has 
been  the  strength  and  glory  of  England  that  she 
has  been  built  on  her  old  foundations  instead  of 
sweeping  them  away;  but  w^hen  we  pass  the  bounds 
of  our  own  youth,  we  have  to  bear  in  mind  that 
it  is  narrow  intolerance  on  the  part  of  the  elder 
generation  which  provokes  the  younger  into  a 
general  overthrow  as  soon  as  they  have  the  power. 

'  The  review  in  the  Literanj  Churchman  of  the 
Idylls  of  the  King  di-ew  forth  a  beautiful  morale 
namely,  that  Arthur  had  made  the  Round  Table 
his  ideal  of  the  perfection  of  mankind  and  knight- 
hood, and  for  that  very  reason  arose  the  quest  of 
the  San  Greal,  leading  above  and  beyond,  iind 
breaking  up  the  Round  Table  to  the  grief  and 
sorrow  of  Arthur.  And  it  is  this  which  befalls 
every  generation  unless  they  live  in  an  age  of 
decadence.  A  quest  will  rise  out  of  their  Round 
Table.  Their  juniors  will  not  rest  with  their  idea 
of  perfection,  but  will  strain  on  to  something 
beyond  and  more  their  own.  It  will  often  seem 
to  spoil  and  break  up  the  older  scheme.  That 
which  was  the  vision  of  youth,  and  of  which 
fruition  has  barely  come,  is  viewed  with  patron- 
izing pity  as  a  mere  first  essay,  and  the  lesson  of 
good  -  humour  we  learnt  when  our  towers  of 
wooden  bricks  were  overtln'own,  that  the  young- 
lings might  use  their  materials,  was  so  long  ago 
that  it  is  hard  to  recall  it  .  .  .  but  the  very  same 
qualities  have  to  be  called  into  play — unselfishness 
ajid  candour.     If  we  can  only  eliminate  self  and 


RELIGIOUS  BOOKS  173 

get  rid  of  personal  feeling,  we  shall  be  able  to 
judge  much  more  fairlj'^  whether  our  knights  have 
gone  off  after  a  San  Greal  or  a  phantom,  a  Una 
or  a  Duessa.  .  .  . 

'It  is  widowhood  that  sometimes  brings  the 
changes — sometimes  simply  the  being  outrun  and 
surpassed  in  progress  as  our  breath  grows  shorter 
and  our  enter])rise  less  ardent. 

'  Well,  what  is  our  part  ?  Surely  to  try  to  be 
helpers  to  the  best  of  our  abilities.  There  will  be 
some  who  lag  behind,  and  who  will  be  glad  of  a 
helping  hand,  and  to  whom  our  old-fashioned  aid 
may  be  valuabh;.  And  if  we  endeavour  to  be  kind 
and  friendly,  understanding  the  purport  of  the 
novelties,  and  granting  the  good  in  them,  we  shall 
get  oLir  counsel  listened  to,  and  may  bring  about 
that  iiapplest  union  of  "  fervent  oUl  age  and  youth 
serene"  which  is  sy)u])oli/ed  by  our  grey  old 
Gothic  buildings  mantled  by  their  green  creepers. 

'Yes,  but  when  we  are  elderly,  and  not  old,  we 
don't  seem  to  attain  these  venerable  graces.  In- 
deed, we  often  do  not  feel  ourselves  ageing.  .  .  . 
It  is  .  .  .  possibles  ...  to  lail  into  ways  that  hav(^ 
very  little  to  1)(^  said  fortlicin.  A  resolute  deter- 
mination still  to  all'ect  yoiitli.  r\lerii;illy;  or. 
again,  dilij^eiil  cidt  ivat  ion  of  some  form  ol'  It.id 
health,  oi- anything  that  puts  us  out  of  re.il  s\ m- 
pathy  with  the  youngei' gcMieration,  .mil  lixes  our 
attention  on  oui'sjflves,  our  ^i-ievances,  oui-  com- 
forts, is  a  form  of  this  dauj^erous  elderliness 
dangerous  because  it  is  lettin;^  the  heart  ^'o  to 
sleej).  .  .  .  The  way  to  go  through  this  elderly 
period  is  to  lecollect  that  whatever  drops  from  us 


174  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

here  should  be  so  much  taken  away  from  between 
us  and  our  vic^v  of  heaven.  If  we  are  becoming 
less  necessary  here,  it  is  surely  that  the  links  and 
bonds  of  our  earthly  life  may  fall  a^vay,  and  our 
gaze  upwards  be  clearer  and  steadier. 

'To  see  the  truth  and  take  it  cheerfully  is 
wisdom  ;  and  if  avc  find  ourselves  shelved  before 
our  time,  it  is  well  to  recollect  that,  after  all,  we 
were  but  God's  instruments,  and  that  He  knows 
best  whether  we  are  blunted  or  not. 

'  Nay,  our  neighbours  may  know  what  we  do 
not. 

'  The  Archbishop  of  Cordova  thought  that  his 
best  sermon  which  Gil  Bias  was  forced  to  declare 
"  sentait  un  peu  Tapoplexie,"  and  it  may  be  best  to 
take  a  hint  in  all  humility. 

'"A  calm  undressing,  waiting  silently,"  is  the 
best  thing  that  can  befall  us  as  well  as  the  trees. 
And  though  it  is  pleasanter  to  give  things  up 
than  to  have  them  taken  away,  let  us  remember 
that  we  are  never  so  safe  as  when  our  will  lies 
undiscerned  by  all  but  God.' 

Somehow,  as  we  read  these  words,  so  full  of  deep 
humility,  the  conviction  forces  itself  upon  us  that,  if 
only  good  people  would  reflect  on  this  problem  of 
'  going  in,'  there  would  be  less  of  that  unedifying 
dislike  of  their  '  successors ' — of  people  who  have 
taken  the  place  we  either  filled  ourselves  or  saw 
once  filled  by  one  we  loved. 

And  the  chapter  on  Old  Age  is  very  beautiful. 
The  description  of  those  old  j)eople  who 


RELIGIOUS  BOOKS  175 

'  seem  to  live  already  in  a  soft  halo  of  heavenly- 
light,  ready  to  interest  themselves  kindly  in  what 
concerns  us,  but  their  minds  and  thoughts  chiefly 
occupied  with  the  home  that  they  are  nearing^ 
the  Land  of  the  Leal.' 

There  is  a  warning  that  it  is  possible  in  old  age 
to  fall  into  a  state  where, 

'  as  the  force  of  mind  and  body  lessen,  the  old  ten- 
dencies kept  in  check  by  custom  or  regard  to 
opinion  get  the  mastery,  such  as  querulousness  or 
peevishness,  hasty  exertions  of  authority  from  a 
piteous  doul)t  whether  it  can  still  be  exercised, 
apparent  avarice  from  the  want  of  power  to  judge 
expenditure,  terrible  distrust  of  others  and  their 
motives,  constant  self-assertion,  alienating  all,  and 
thcAi  resenting  tluur  standing  aloof.  Oh,  mournful 
condition  !  And  y(;t,  may  it  not  await  any  of  us? 
"  Forsakti  nu*  not,  O  (iod,  in  mine  age,  when  I  am 
old  and  grey-headed."  Those, as  far  as  wo  can  see, 
whom  God  do(\M  |)reH<'rve  fi'om  this  state  are  lliose 
who  liav(!  gnarded  tluMusc^lves  cai'efully  through 
life  from  giving  way  to  jx'tulant  emotion,  and 
have  tried  tfj  live  in  thc^  love  and  feai-  of  (Jod,  not 
only  doing  obvious  outw/ird  diity,  l)ut  making 
coniniunion  with  (iod  i-es1  and  joy.  Those  who 
thus  live  may  hop(^  to  reali/e  that 

'  "  Nor  sliall  (lull  atro,  a^  worlilliiifjs  say, 
TIh?  lHfa\('iiHar<l  flanu'  annoy  ; 
Tlif!  Saviour  tammt  paxs  away, 
And  willi  llini  liven  our  joy."' 

Surely  it  is  well  to  pray  f*^v  ^W'h  .ati  old  .'ige,  if  age 
is  to  be  our  portion. 


176  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

Dear  Miss  Yonge,  no  doubt  prayed  for  that  old 
age,  A\'hich  was  granted  to  her  in  full  abundance.  It 
seems  to  us  that  in  Uomnnkind  she  revealed  more 
of  her  OAvn  inner  self,  of  the  love  and  devotion  to  our 
Lord  which  were  the  mainspring  of  her  life,  than  in 
any  other  book. 

The  book  shows  her  as  she  was,  with  all  her  power 
and  also  all  her  limitation.  She  was  intensely  re- 
served, and  it  was  not  often  in  her  books  that  she 
spoke  very  openly  of  the  deep  things  of  God  and  of 
the  soul.  The  Pillars  of  the  House,  perhaps,  tells 
us  more  of  her  deep  convictions  than  any  other 
story.  But  in  Womankind  she  now  and  then 
allows  herself  to  speak  quite  freely  and  from  the 
heart. 

It  is  curious,  also,  to  notice  another  point  in  Miss 
Yonge's  books.  She  wrote  mainly  for  women.  Her 
earlier  books  undoubtedly  had  a  certain  amount  of 
popularity  among  men ;  but  so  far  as  she  had  any 
sense  of  a  mission,  we  are  sure  she  only  thought  of 
her  own  sex.  This  is  much  more  pronounced  in  her 
later  books,  however.  She  understands  the  ordinary 
English  schoolboy,  good  or  naughty. 

She  speaks  of  some  schoolboy  writing  to  her 
about  the  utter  muffs  ladies  (Miss  Yonge  never 
speaks  of  vien  and  women)  made  of  schoolboys,  and 
instanced  Norman  May  (which  shows  the  school- 
boy was  limited).  Miss  Yonge  goes  on  to  say :  '  I 
always  thought  Famii's  boys,  who  always  died  as 
soon  as  they  began  to  be  good,  very  immoral.' 

And  she  can  put  on  her  canvas  all  kinds  and  sorts 
of  English  gentlemen  and  respectable  English  work- 
ing men.    The  modern  villain  of  any  class  is  beyond 


RELIGIOUS  BOOKS  177 

her.  Her  scoundrels  in  the  historical  tales  are  the 
most  convincing  of  her  wicked  men,  possibly  because 
we  know  so  much  less  about  the  period. 

Miss  Yonge  is  intensely  simple,  direct,  and  per- 
haps somewhat  wanting  in  artistic  faculty.  She 
is  singularly  inferior  in  this  respect  to  Mrs.  Gaskell, 
whose  stories  are  on  quite  as  limited  a  canvas,  but 
who  produces  effects  as  different  from  any  of  Miss 
Yonge's  as  are  the  sketches  of  a  real  artist  from  the 
photographs  o(  the  best  camera.  That  is  where 
Miss  Yonge  falls  short  of  real  greatness.  She  photo- 
graphs with  extraordinary  fidelity,  and  her  people 
are  real  people;  ))at  she  has  no  idea  of  construction 
or  of  plot,  nor  din-^s  she  ever  face  great  (piestions  or 
problems,  but,  as  Mrs.  Dyson  said  in  1857 : 

'  Charlotte  sent  us  the  Safiirdai/  /icvicir  of  her  .  .  . 
It  is  clever  enough,  and  llu^  jjraisc  just,  we  think. 
But  the  reviewer  would  never  enter  into  her  prin- 
ciples, and  evidently  wants  her  to  tnidertake  tlie 
great  social  (juestions,  as  Mrs.  (Jaskell  and  suchlike 
writers.  Why  she  may  not  takc^  hei-  own  line, 
instead  of  imitating  them  or  trying  to  compete 
with  Shakespeare,  one  ciinnot  comprehend' 

What  gives  lier  work  value  is,  first  of  all,  that  ht  r 
characters  in  the  Ixjst  of  her  books  are  all  alivi'  ami 
impress  thems<'lvcs  upon  us;  we  <'annot  forget  th<  in, 
atnl,  what  is  more,  we  do  not  wish  to  foiget  them: 
they  b(M;omo  real  friends,  whosi;  tast«'s,  opinions, 
examples,  have  directed  our  own. 

Then,  there  is  in  the  books  ,i  passion  for  goodness 
— that  is,  thf^  goodness  wliicli  implies  In'gli-minded- 
neHH,   absolute   honesty,    unselfishness,   .nul    .m    in- 


178  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

capacity  for  evil.  She  cares  so  much  more  for  good- 
ness than  for  anything  else.  And  she  has,  as  Mr. 
Henry  Sidgwick  pointed  out  in  the  words  already 
quoted,  an  extraordinary  gift  for  investing  the 
dullest  situations,  the  most  commonplace  occupa- 
tions, not  merely  with  interest,  or  with  gentle  satire, 
but  with  romance.  Miss  Yonge  is  one  of  the  most 
romantic  of  writers.  She  does  feel  what  Mr.  Chester- 
ton has  so  well  expressed,  that  'romance  lies  not 
upon  the  outside  of  life,  but  absolutely  in  the  centre 
of  it ;  she  sees  all  the  glory  and  beauty  that  lie  behind 
the  dull  routine  of  life,  and  that,  after  all,  is  romance.' 
And  this  faculty  is  lacking  in  many  people  who  sneer 
at  the  supposed  goody-goodiness  of  Miss  Yonge's 
books.  Goody-goodiness  is  just  the  defect  they  have 
not.  Some  of  them  may  be  dull,  or  limited,  or 
wanting  in  plot,  but  goody-goody  they  are  not. 

We  should  like  here   to  quote  a  letter  to  Miss 
Ireland  Blackburne : 

'Here  are  two  proofs  of  your  conversation, which, 
by-the-by,  must  be  headed  "A  Conversation  on 
Books."  It  will  not  go  in  this  time,  so  you  will 
have  plenty  of  opportunity  to  do  what  you  please 
with  it.  A  conversation  on  Archbishop  Trench's 
book  must  precede  it,  to  give  the  old  man  a  chance 
of  hearing  it,  as  it  is  by  a  young  relation  of  his  own 
— ^young,  I  mean,  compared  with  him.  If  I  have 
this  by  the  1st  of  March,  it  will  be  all  right. 

'  I  once  had  the  pleasure  of  meeting  Lord 
Houghton  at  Mr.  Gibbs',  and  I  remember  talking 
over  with  him  some  curious  papers  of  Hawthorne's 
that  nobody  else  seemed  to  appreciate. 


RELIGIOUS  BOOKS  179 

'  I  am  afraid  that  Life  of  George  Eliot  will  do  a 
great  deal  of  mischief.  It  has  ill  ways  seemed  to  me 
afearful  thing  that,  for  the  sake  of  her  genius  and 
power,  her  deliance  of  all  moral  ami  religious  prin- 
ciple in  her  own  life  should  be  sunk  and  forgotten 
as  if  it  had  been  a  sort  of  heroism.  The  underlying 
feeling  in  all  her  books  seems  to  be  fatalism,  and 
the  farther  she  drifted  away  from  the  training  of 
her  youth,  the  more  they  failed  even  as  works  of 
art.  \\  hat  a  contrast  between  Adam  Bede  and 
Daniel  iJevonda!  1  imagine,  as  the  SaturiUty  says, 
that  the  real  fact  was  that  the  essentially  feminine 
character  (not  genius)  was  really  mastered  by 
Lewes,  and  that  a  good  man  could  have  made  her 
do  grandly  good  work  —so  that  the  whole  seems 
to  me  a  lesson  against  ilelivering  up  our  conscience 
to  any  leader.  It  seems  to  me  that  what  she  hatl 
was  a  marvellous  power  of  drawing  memorable 
portraits,  Ijut  that  she  gradually  usi-d  u[)  her  stock, 
liesides  this,  Maggie  TuUiver  is  a  special  pleading 
for  herself — and  in  that  way  very  touching  like 
that  little  poem  about  brother  and  sister;  but  her 
ideals,  like  Daniel  Deronda  himself,  are  utter 
failures.  Rijinola  fails  -  the  book,  1  nn'an  -  becaustj 
sln!  hatl  no  rcligicjus  power  left  wherewith  to 
appreciate  Savonarola,  and  ><)  iii.nlr  liini  imlilical. 

Of  course  Tito  is  one  ot"  Inr  leiiiblc  ,'>i|cce-^>e>.' 

And  Miss  Vonge's  r<>nian«e  is  the  romance  of  duly, 
of  obedience,  of  loyalty.  '  Der  Gehor>am  ist  die 
erste  Pflicht,' she  wouhl  have  said  wiib  the  Grand 
Master  in  Schiller's  ballad,  and  we  wonder  nuich  if 
bhe  ever  read  Ijrowning,  and  what  she  would  have 


180  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

made  of  Pompilia,  of  the  Duchess  whose  flight 
Browning  so  commends,  of  many  another  who  hroke 
the  bounds  of  conventionaHty  and  of  stereotyped 
duty.  No  doubt  she  would  have  recognized  that 
here  again  were  new  f ulfillings  of  the  way  of  God. 

She  read  enormously,  and  it  is  delightful  to  see 
ho^v  ^vhole-hearted  a  lover  of  Scott  she  Avas. 

Besides  Scott  and  Shakespeare,  and,  of  course,  the 
Christian  Year  and  Lyra  Innocentiuin,  she  evidently 
loved  /  Proniessi  Sposi,  and,  like  so  many  of  the 
people  of  the  Oxford  Movement,  the  romances  of 
De  la  Motte  Fouque.  Spenser  she  knew,  and  Pope, 
and  great  writers  of  the  eighteenth  century.  Her 
much-loved  Louis  Fitzjocelyn  reads  to  his  lady-love 
from  the  sonnets  of  Lope  de  Vega,  and  we  are  sure 
Miss  Yonge  loved  them.  As  was  to  be  expected, 
several  eminent  writers  were  disliked  by  her. 

Miss  Yonge  knew  her  Homer  and  her  Virgil,  and 
the  tragedians  of  Greece. 

The  criticism  in  this  letter,  written  in  1887,  is  not 
unjust: 

'  I  have  been  reading  an  article  in  the  National 
Revieiv,  showing  how  utterly  Carlyle  misquoted 
Cromwell's  speeches,  and  absohitely  neglected 
shoals  of  contemporary  papers  which  would  have 
spoilt  his  conception  of  his  idol.  It  is  curious,  but, 
really,  poor  old  Carlyle  must  have  been  a  good 
deal  of  a  humbug  for  all  his  bluster.' 

She  read  vast  numbers  of  chronicles  and  memoirs. 
One  of  her  undated  letters  to  Miss  Barnett,  probably 
in  the  early  sixties,  says  : 


RVVlJ    hcKbliN    IN    Ul  li'.KUUUKNb    CHUKCH. 

Krectcd  lo  the  memory  of  Charlotte  Mary  Vonge. 

From  a  photogrAph,  liy  permission  of  Mr.  Nontworlhy. 

To/net  fioft  180. 


RELIGIOUS  BOOKS  181 

'  I  hope  you  have  En«^enie  de  Guerin.  You  are 
one  of  the  people  to  like  her  especially  and  ex- 
tremely, with  her  sAveet  religious,  pastoral  spirit 
and  .  .  .  devotion  to  her  hrother.  I  am  exceedingly 
in  love  with  her  myself.' 

She  was  extremely  fond  of  reading  aloud,  and  she 
loved  biographies. 

Miss  Youge  had  naturally  very  little  knowledge 
of  the  stress  and  strain  of  modern  problems.  She 
was  interested  in  Arthur  Hainiltou,  an  imaginary 
biography  which  was  written  by  an  eminent  man  of 
letters  in  the  early  days  of  his  distinguished  career. 
She  writes  of  him  as  of  a  real  person,  and  says  to 
the  Dean  of  Lincoln  :  '  A.  must  have  known  him  at 
Trinity.  He  must  have  just  missed  Dr.  Moberly  at 
Winchester.'    She  goes  on  : 

'What  I  think  wants  to  be  understood  now 
especially  is  how  far  Avant  of  fnilh  is  lolxi treated 
as  Sin.  The  Bible  and  the  (Jlniich  have  always 
done  so  (query).  And  now  even  the  good  seem 
to  think  it  is  only  to  be  dealt  wnth  as  a  nu's- 
fortune,  and  that  one  does  the  most  awful  harm 
by  denouncing  it.' 

Miss  Yonge  was  always  hoix'fnl.  She  wi-ites  to 
Miss  lianictt  <)iic<^ : 

'I  do  not  tliinl'C  tlu-  iii,i-^s  of  tlir  world  is  as 
morally  bad  as  it  Wfis  then  |in  tbe  Middle  .Xgcsl, 
Th<^  gi'c.'it  saints  and  the  gr(?at  sinners  are  inncb 
alike  in  all  t  inu^s,  I  stipposo,  and  I  am  afraid  t  bero 
are  fewer  ignoi'anf  sinipb*  saints.  I'lif  Ilbinktlie 
goodness  of  meiliaiNal   times    is  altogi'tber  a  de- 


182  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

lusion  ;  and  though  I  do  not  like  "progress  cant,"  T 
think  the  good  should  be  owned,  and  not  only  the 
evil.' 

It  is  convenient  here  to  notice  a  second  group  of 
historical  stories,  which,  although  not  attaining  to 
the  merits  of  the  first  group,  are  interesting ;  one 
or  two,  at  least,  have  something  of  the  old  charm. 

Stray  Pearls  we  noticed  before.  U7iknown  to 
History  is  a  story  of  a  supposed  daughter  of  Mary, 
Queen  of  Scots,  and  Bothwell,  find  gives  us  an  inter- 
esting, quiet  picture  of  both  Mary  and  Elizabeth. 
One  episode,  the  Anthony  Babington  conspiracy,  is 
admirable.  Miss  Yonge  makes  us  feel  the  fascina- 
tion of  Mary,  and  realize  the  wretched  perplexities 
and  miseries  of  Shrewsbury,  who  was  so  long  her 
custodian. 

The  Reputed  Changeling  is,  to  our  mind,  quite 
admirable.  The  Puritan  Major  Oakshott,  whose 
son  Peregrine  became  possessed  with  the  belief  that 
he  was  the  changeling  his  nurses  believed  him  to 
be ;  the  gentle  heroine,  Anne  Woodford,  and  her 
fortunes  at  the  Court  of  King  James,  are  described 
in  Miss  Yonge's  most  spirited  manner,  and  there  is 
plenty  of  adventure. 

Grisley  Gr'isell  is  a  story  of  the  Wars  of  the  Roses, 
and  is  an  ingenious  bit  of  work,  suggested  to  the 
author  by  the  story  of  Patient  Griselda.  It  is  quite 
worth  reading,  but  the  charm  of  the  earlier  stories 
has  vanished,  and  the  number  of  historical  characters 
is  not  a  little  confusing. 

There  are  several  other  historical  stories  which 
were  published  by  the  National  Society. 


RELIGIOUS  BOOKS  18:^ 

Miss  Yonge  never  lost  the  love  for  courage,  for 
heroism,  for  '  the  Happy  Warrior.'  Tliere  is  a  letter 
of  hers  to  Mr,  Palgrave,  wliich  may  be  (j noted  here, 
which  shows  her  feeling  for  Scott.  Mr.  Palgrave  had 
been  writing  to  ask  her  about  an  article  on  Scott  by 
Keble. 

'My  dear  Mr.  Palgrave, 

'The  shortest  way  will  be  to  send  you  our 
number,  to  which  you  are  very  avcIcouk^  as  long 
as  it  can  be  of  any  use  to  j^ou — though  I  should 
like  to  have  it  again  ultimately. 

'You  will  see  that  a  good  deal  of  the  scope  of 
the  article  goes  to  the  influence  of  Scott's  works 
in  j)r(!paring  minds  for  the  Church  movonunit, 
but  th(;  suj)pr('ssed  j)ootry  breaking  out  is  the 
main  i<K'a.  I  mean  rather  the  suppressed  inclina- 
tions finding  vent  in  ])oc!try.  Do  you  know  the 
account  of  a  visit  to  .VWbotsford  given  in  the  Lite 
of  Mrs.  Hcnians?  Slic  s«'ems  to  have  had  the 
[)ow(M"  of  (hawing  ont  his  grand  natnrc  in  conver- 
sation. I  suppose  that,  though  her  verses  are 
weak,  she  h/id  a  vnvi'  powci-of  poetical  discern- 
nuMit  ;  at  least,  nhnost  all  the  snl)j<'cts  of  her  poems 
are  so  poetical  in  tlirinselves  that  tlie  j)oems 
])rovoke  me  as  il'  '.lie  liad  been  watering  tlieiii 
down.  I>iit  it  was  >,|ic  \\li(  1  ie<(  (ided  Sc(  >|  t's  grand 
speech  about  noble  blood  slied  in  a  hopeless  caiis(«,* 
and  for  that  the  woild  owes  her  nuich  gr;ititudo. 
I  think  there  is  a  poem  in  lln'  /-///'/  / ii iiocrntiuni 
suggested  by  that  <lescri|»t  ion  of  Scott    as  a  young 

*  'Hic  wiyiiijf  of  Srotl'H  Ih  quolorl  in  Thr  Ihiitj/  Chain  :  '  Never  lot 
me  lirar  th.it  Wravi"  tilooil  lia..  Iin'ii  -ilifd  in  vriiii.  1 1  "imhI'.  ;»  rrxirintr 
voice  down  thiou^fli  all  time' 


184  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

cliild  clapping  his  hands  and  crying,  "Bonnie! 
bonnie!"  at  every  flash  of  lightning.  There  is 
something  very  engaging  in  Crabbe's  Life,  but  I 
think  most  of  his  verses  are  more  stories  than 
poems.  S.  Osyth's  is  the  one  that  seems  to  me 
most  poetical,  and  that  is  little  more  than  a  song. 
Do  you  not  think  that  there  are  too  many  of  Mrs. 
Mozley's  family  living  for  her  life  to  be  really 
sketched  ?  I  suspect  it  will  be  shadowed  out  in 
her  brother's,  if  he  gets  a  tolerably  worthy  bio- 
grapher (and  liov/  can  he  ?).  One  thing  struck  me 
much  :  how  the  line  of  argmnent  in  the  Apologia 
resembled  that  in  the  Fairy  Boiver — I  mean,  of 
course,  that  part  of  the  A%)ologia  where  Dr. 
Newman  vindicates  his  truth.  Do  you  know  her 
last  book.  Family  Adventures  ?  She  died  while  it 
was  in  the  press.  People  tell  me  it  is  very  like  the 
Newmans  in  their  youth.  I  only  saw  her  once, 
when  I  was  quite  a  young  girl.' 

We  come  now  to  the  group  of  Miss  Yonge's  later 
stories — Nutties  Father,  Chantry  House,  Ttco  Sides 
of  a  Shield,  Beechcroft  at  Rockstorw,  That  Stick,  The 
Long  Vacation. 

These  need  not  detain  us  very  long.  In  some  of 
them  we  meet  old  f  rieds.  Mays  aiid  Underwoods  and 
Mohuns,  but  the  old  charm  has  almost  vanished,  and 
there  is  an  absolute  lack  of  atmosphere  in  the  four 
last  named.  Chantry  House  to  some  extent  breathes 
the  old  aroma,  and  has  a  delightful  ghost  story. 

'  I  can't  help  being  attracted  by  ghost  discussions, 
and  there  are  some  things  that  I  very  decidedly 
believe.' 


RELIGIOUS  BOOKS  185 

In  botli  Xutties  Father  and  That  Stick  Miss  Yonge 
tries  to  draw  villains,  and  fails,  especially  where  she 
wants  to  show  us  a  reallj'  wicked  man  of  the  world 
in  the  father  of  Nuttie.  And  Miss  Yonge  often  fails 
to  see  anj-thing  good  in  the  modern  girl.  There  is 
an  extraordinary  coDDHonrn'sst  about  some  of  her 
girls.  Some  years  before  she  wrote  a  little  tale  in 
the  Blue  Bell  Series,  a  set  of  stories  which  seems  to 
have  come  to  a  premature  end.  In  this,  which  is 
called  The  Disturbing  Element,  the  girls  are  well 
descnbcd,  but  they  are  terribly  uninteresting  in  the 
later  stories.  She  fell  herself  that  her  modern 
stories  failed  somewhat.  She  writes  to  Miss  Black- 
bume: 

*I  don't  care  nuuh  for  Nuttie  myself.  I  am 
getting  too  old  to  write  of  the  swing  of  modern 
life;  I  don't  see  enough  of  it.' 

Yet  even  in  this  }>()()k  t  here  are  somcvivid sketches, 
especially  of  th<'  bright,  l)rave  Scotch  girl  \n  ho  made 
so  gallant  a  stand  in  poverty. 

In  these  later  years  the  aspect  of  j)olitics  was 
often  distressing  to  Miss  Yonge,  who  was  by  nature 
and  convietion  a  ( 'ons<'i-vative,  and  she  wi-ites  with 
delightful  vehemence  to  Miss  hv'laud  Hlackbunie  : 

'Thniik  you  for  _\oui'  letter  ntid  (exposition  of 
Lord  Hart ingt oil's  views.  I  tliinU  il  is  very  li.inl 
on  Loi'ds  SalJslMiry  and  iilileslcigli.  who  ha\e  l)een 
stanch,  religious  (  Inircliinen  all  tlieir  li\es,  to  be 
accMised  of  making  a  party  rvy  of  tlie  Chujch's 
dangei' ;  and  it  wa>^  not  they,  but  tlie  /mto/*/.  who 
pul)liMhed  the  scbciue  of  the  |(K)  lohlMis.    It  -xiins 


186  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

to  me  that,  if  Lord  Hartington  and  the  "  moderate 
Libeivils"  did  not  love  their  party  and  their  power 
better  than  their  Church,  they  would  throw  over 
Chamberlain  and  his  crew  instead  of  tampering 
with  "  the  present "  and  Gladstone's  shameful 
talk  of  "  dim  and  distant  future " ;  but  they  had 
rather  ruin  the  Church  than  not  be  in  office  or 
lose  their  elections.  .  .  .  And  then  they  say  it  is  a 
Tory  cry !  Who  put  out  the  Radical  programme  ? 
Were  not  the  Tories  to  take  it  up  ?  They,  at  least, 
have  never  tried  to  despoil  the  Church,  whereas 
Whiggery  has  murdered  an  Archbishop),  expelled 
our  best  clergy,  and  brought  the  dead  Walpole 
blight  over  the  Church.  I  don't  see  how  she  can 
be  expected  to  love  it. 

'  Don't  you  think  that  Conservatism  gets  great 
injustice  done  it  in  being  supposed  averse  to  all 
improvements  ? 

'  One  can't  sweep  a  house  when  the  enemy  are 
trying  to  destroy  it.  All  one's  powers  are  spent 
in  defence. 

'  Can  you  explain  to  me  the  difference  between 
a  Liberal  and  a  Radical,  or  why  Liberals  always 
make  common  cause  with  Radicals,  and  wish  to 
put  it  in  their  power  to  ruin  the  Church  and  expel 
religious  education  ?  They  say,  "  Oh  no,  we  don't 
wish  it."  Then  they  help  to  do  it  all  the  same. 
Can  you  expect  the  Church  to  trust  them  ? 

'  I  know,  of  course,  that  the  Church  must  not  be 
political,  but  do  not  Liberals  show  themselves  her 
natural  enemies  ?  What  have  they  done  to  her  in 
France  ? 

'  You  say  that  is  a  warning,  but  why  are  Church- 


REREDOS,    IN    Till;    LADY    CHAfKL,    WINCHESTER    CATMEDKAL. 
EreclerJ  lo  ihc  memory  of  CbArlottc  Mary  Vongc. 

To/act  fiagf  i86. 


RELIGIOUS  BOOKS  187 

people  to  give  up  their  consciences  and  throw 
away  their  loyalty  for  fear  of  being  persecuted  ? 
I  am  utterly  miserable  about  it  all,  for  it  seems  to 
me  that  the  principle  of  Liberalism  is  to  let  the 
multitude  have  its  own  way ;  and  as  there  will 
always  be  more  folly  and  rapaciousness  in  the 
world  than  wisdom  and  conscience,  it  seems  to  me 
that  the  glory  of  England  is  gone. 

'  There !  Please  forgive  me  for  writing  bitterly, 
but  I  do  feel  most  cruelly  the  destruction  of  the 
Church,  and  the  attacks  on  all  I  have  thought 
good  and  great. 

'  Yours  sincerely, 

C.  M.  YONGE.' 

She  writes  again  to  Miss  Blackburnc  : 

'  I  coidd  not  get  time  to  answer  your  last  letter 
immediately,  as  I  have  been  very  busy  in  various 
ways, and,  as  you  may  supi)os(^,  nuicli  disappointed 
in  the  elections,  in  proj)ortion  no  douht  to  your 
satisfaction.  Hut  I  sec  no  satet_>'  now,  humanly 
speaking,  i"or  th(^  ( "hurch,  or  aii\t  liiiig  else  that  is 
worth  preserving,  nidcss  tin-  inodcivitc  (jibc^rais 
will  make  a  stand,  \\  liich  1  sec  no  signs  ol'  tiieir 
intending. 

'You    say    Mr. disapprovcvs    of    the    State 

nHsisting  in  i-cligious  cdncat  ion.  We  have;  come 
to  a  j^ass  in  w  lildi  no  one-  cxpcfts  it  to  do  ho  ;  all  wo 
ask  is  tliJit  il  should  not  try  to  stifle  r<>ligious 
(Mhif-at  ion.  .1  nd  1  think  no  onci.in  dtiiy  that  {\\ii 
Conin'il  <>r  I'lihicat  i<»n  <lo  so  as  nnich  as  they  dare, 
and  tliat  t  he  st  rong  and  avowed  desire  is  t  o  prevent. 
the  clergy  1  roni  giving  a  (  hni  i  h  < dut  mI  ion  e\  en  to 


188  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

their  own  children  in  the  religious  hour,  and  that 
if  free  education  conies  in,  it  will  be  at  the  cost  of 
religious  education. 

'  As  to  the  colonies,  I  think  representation  of 
them  here  would  be  a  very  good  thing.  I  suppose 
the  long  distances  were  the  original  hindrance. 

'I  believe  Conservatives  would  be  as  glad  as 
anyone  to  facilitate  (but  not  compel)  transfer  of 
land.  I  can't  understand  hov.'  honest  men  could 
be  content  to  owe  their  election  to  the  deceits  put 
about.  I  don't  know  if  the  stories  were  true  about 
taking  a  halter  to  the  poll  to  bring  home  a  cow, 
but  I  do  know  of  a  man  who  expected  a  slice  of 
the  squire's  grounds,  of  belief  that  the  Conserva- 
tives would  put  a  penny  on  the  loaf,  of  free 
schools  being  taken  to  mean  being  free  not  to  send 
your  children  to  school,  and  a  list  of  Mr.  Strachey's 
promises  in  the  paper  to-day  is  a  strange  thing. 
Nor  will  Gladstone  denounce  attempts  on  the 
Church.  It  is  only  "  not  just  yet."  You  say  not 
this  century !  Poor  comfort  when  there  are  only 
fourteen  years  more  to  come.  Alas !  alas !  I  feel 
they  have  given  up  to  destruction  all  that  is 
precious  and  holy. 

'Yours  sincerely, 

'  C.  M.  YONGE.' 

What  would  Miss  Yonge  have  said  to  the  Education 
Bill  of  1906? 

She  says  in  another  letter  to  the  same  friend  : 

'Next  time  I  have  to  set  down  "Likes  and 
Dislikes,"  I  shall  put  a  General  Election  as  my 
chief  antipathy.' 


LATER  YEARS  189 

Miss  Yonge  in  her  later  years  took  up  a  fresh  bit  of 
work.  She  edited  a  Httle  paper.  Mothers  in  Counc«7, 
the  organ  of  the  more  educated  mothers  of  the 
Mothers'  Union,  and  contributed  to  it  many  papers. 
Changes  came  to  her  in  these  last  fifteen  years. 
Mr.  JuHan  Yonge  sold  Otterbourne  House,  and  died 
very  soon  after ;  Miss  Yonge's  companion  and  friend, 
Miss  Walter,  died  in  1897,  and  once  more  she  was 
able  to  receive  lior  friends  at  Elderiicld.  The  Vicar 
of  Otterbourne,  Mr.  Henry  Bowles,  hail  married  one 
of  her  nieces,  and  this  was  a  great  i)leasure  to  her. 

In  a  letter  she  writes  to  Miss  Blackburne,  who 
was  at  Hyeres : 

'I  always  fancied  Hyeres  the  most  of  these 
resorts,  perhaps  because  my  father  was  there  to 
take  charge  of  a  consumptive  cousin  in  1S1()-17, 
and  he  used  to  talk  of  the  sheets  of  big  l)lue 
violets.  He  had  been  at  Waterloo,  and  was  with 
the  army  of  occupation,  and  this  cousin  came  out 
for  the  fasbionable  cure  of  living  in  a  cow-house. 
...  It  must  have  answeiJMl  in  this  case,  for  the. 
patient  lived  U)  die  an  Admiral  over  seventy, 
though  he  had  a  cough  all  his  life.' 

In  189;i  a  presentation  was  made  to  Miss  Yonge 
on  hei-  seventieth  birthday.  It  consisted  ol'  an 
address  signed  l)y  all  who  caicil  I'or  h(>r  and  l'<>i  Iki' 
bo(jks,  and  wiio  would  sub^ciihc  one  shilling.  Tlu^ 
sum  Hubscrilx'(l  amounted  to  X2(M),  and  out  of  this  a 
lich-gate  wcw  given  to  Otterbourne  (  liui(li\.ird, 
and  an  Jifternoon-tea  table  /md  set  were  bougiit  l)y 
her  lor  herself.  She  writes  to  the  Dean  of  Salisbury 
iiftcr  t  he  pi-esental  ion  of  t  he  hirl  hd.i\'  addre«H: 


190  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

'  It  was  a  wonderful  surprise,  for  the  secret  had 
been  very  well  kept,  and  the  day  before  I  had  a 
present  from  my  former  and  present  scholars 
which  gave  me  great  delight.  £200  came  with  the 
autographs.  .  .  . 

'1  do  feel  that  Mr.  Keble's  blessing,  "Prosper 
Thou  the  work  of  her  hands  upon  her,"  has  been 
most  marvellously  fulfilled,  and  this  has  brought 
me  to  think  that  the  peculiar  care  and  training 
that  were  given  me  by  my  father,  Mr.  Keble  and 
M.  A.  D.  [Miss  Dyson]  seem  to  have  been  appointed 
to  make  me  a  sort  of  instrument  for  popularizing 
Church  views  that  might  not  have  been  otherwise 
taken  in  ;  and  so  I  am  thankful  to  believe  that  is 
my  place  as  a  polished  corner.' 

A  few  years  later  a  sum  of  money  was  collected  and 
given  to  her,  in  order  to  found  a  scholarship  for  the 
girls  of  Winchester  High  School,  to  be  held  at  one 
of  the  Avomen's  colleges  in  Oxford  or  Cambridge. 

The  present  writer  may  be  permitted  to  add 
another  reminiscence.  In  1896  1  was  staying  at 
Shawford,  near  Winchester,  with  the  late  Dr.  Robert 
Moberly  and  his  family;  we  had  taken  rooms 
together  for  a  few  days  of  the  Easter  holidays. 
Miss  Yonge,  with  whom  I  had  had  a  slight  acquaint- 
ance, very  kindly  came  to  see  me,  and  we  walked 
back  to  Otterbourne  over  the  downs.  As  we  went 
she  began  to  talk  of  Church  matters,  of  the  Lux 
Mundi  school  of  thought,  of  the  Christian  Social 
Union.  She  could  not,  she  said,  feel  in  sympathy 
with  much  of  these  newer  phases  of  thought.  I 
ventured  then  to  remind  her  of  what  she  herself  had 


LATER  YEARS  191 

put  into  Dr.  May's  mouth,  as  to  the  Quest  of  the 
Holy  Grail  and  the  perplexity  it  had  caused  King 
Arthur.  She  smiled  and  seemed  to  like  the  allusion. 
I  longed  to  say  much  more  and  to  ask  her  many 
questions,  but  time  was  short  and  my  shyness  was 
great. 

We  went  to  Evensong  at  Otterbourne.  1  have 
always  felt  that  evening  to  have  been  one  of  the 
supreme  moments  <jf  my  life.  It  was  an  extra- 
ordinary privilege  to  kneel  just  once  by  the  writer 
who  had  more  than  anyone  else  influenced  one's 
mind  in  the  early  days  of  youth,  had  helped  one  to 
care  for  the  Church  and  for  all  that  the  Church 
implies,  who  luid  been  one's  first  teacher.  Miss 
Yonge,  indeed,  had  stood  for  much  in  the  life  of  a 
motherless  child,  who  had  very  little  outward  help 
or  guidance,  wlio  had  found  in  The  Ddiay  Chain  her 
first  real  fiicnds,  and  wIkj  hatl  Icarni'd  fri>m  aMIss 
Yonge  to  love  the  Ckrialian  War  and  many  another 
l)ook. 

There  are  greater  writers  of  morn  original  genius 
to  whom  one  owes  much,  but  I  lliink  tliei'e  are  none 
wh(jm  one  thanks  so  gi-atetull\  lor  \\  lial  -he  taiiglit 
one  to  reverence  and  to  love. 

in  this  connection  1  may  be  |»einiille<l  l<»  (jiiotea 
lett  ei'  to  myself.  Sbe  w  i(  it  e  to  nie  al  t  lie  time  <  'f  m  y 
husband's  deat  li  : 

'  Will  you  allow  om-  who  is  almost  n  h(  ranger  to 
you  personally,  tt»  express  my  de»'p  symp/ithy  and 
sorrow  when  I  s/iw  the  notic<'  in  the  p/ij»'r  of 
the  /luful  blow  tlwit  lias  fallen  on  y«Mi':'  I  kn(»w 
from  Annie  Mobi  rl\  ot  \<»ur  great  kin<lne>s  on  my 


192  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

birthday  last  yeai-,  and  that  leads  me  to  hope  that 
you  will  not  feel  a  few  words  from  an  old  woman 
an  intrusion ;  though  pray  do  not  try  to  answer 
them,  as  I  shall  hear  of  you  from  Annie.  I  have 
thought  of  you  in  my  prayers,  and  may  you  and 
your  children  have  full  comfort  and  joy  in  com- 
munion alike  with  those  gone  before  and  with  the 
Comforter  and  great  Head  of  the  Church. 

'  A  very  dear  friend  of  mine,  Mrs.  Gibbs,  whose 
name  you  know  in  connection  with  Keble  College, 
used  to  say  that  the  losses  of  her  husband  and 
several  of  her  children  had  made  "  Therefore  with 
Angels  and  Archangels,"  etc.,  more  to  her  than 
ever.  If  you  do  not  know  William  Tvipper's 
sonnet,  "Ye  saints  in  Heaven,  dear  Jesu's  Body 
Glorious,  From  Abel  to  the  babe  baptized  but  now," 
ask  Annie  to  show  it  to  you.  Mrs.  Keble  used  to 
keep  a  copy  in  her  pocket. 

'  Yours  very  sincerely, 

'  C.  M.  YONGE.' 

A  short  time  before  this  Miss  Yonge  wrote  about 
Newman,  whose  letters  had  just  been  published  : 

'  What  seems  to  me  to  be  the  fact  ...  is  that, 
having  been  brought  up  in  the  Protestant  school 
of  thought,  and  worked  out  Catholicity  for  him- 
self, when  everybody  thundered  at  the  Tracts, 
etc.,  he  thought  the  fault  lay  in  the  Church  of 
England,  not  only  in  the  blundering  of  indi- 
viduals, and  he  did  not  wait  to  see  her  clear  herself. 
And  then  I  think  that  he  had,  apparently,  never 
thoroughly  followed  the  times  between  the  separa- 


LATER  YEARS  193 

tion  from  the  Greek  Clmrch  and  the  Ket'oriiia- 
tion.  Hurrell  Froucle  was  doing  it,  but  there  has 
been  so  mucb  less  research  [about  that  period  ?] 
that  H.  F.  takes  for  granted  that  Roman  Kitual 
is  necessarily  Apostolical,  without  (ap]»arently) 
having  found  out  about  equally  Apostolical  rites 
that  Rome  had  cruslied — eg.,  Gallican,  Spanish,  not 
to  say  our  (^wn  Uses.  And  now  we  have  .ill  that 
was  like  a  day-dream  to  them.' 

She  writes  from  Sali-lmiy  : 

'Dean  Church's  l)eautifiil  book*  came  in  titne  for 
me  to  work  it  in  with  the  Cardinal  [Xeauuiiifi 
Letters].  It  is  a  sort  of  key.  By  the  way,  there 
is  a  nn'stake — 1  don't  know  whether  J.  II.  X.'s  or 
Miss  Mo/.ley's  about  the  consecration  of  a  church 
to  which  he  could  not  go  in  iSiJS:  it  is  said  to  be 
Hursley,  but  it  really  was  Otteiboiirne.  Hursley 
was  not  consecrated,  iif  course,  till  years  after.  I 
read  lluii'cll  Fr<)iid<' iiiimediat<'ly  aftei-  .  .  .  then  I 
read  Dean  Chin<h,  u  bo  is  most  debgbtful  every 
way,  and  how  h(f  does  scathe  the  Hebdoma<lal 
Board  I  How  Mke  it  was  to  the  <.i'i'i\  bin  st  ing  and 
bi'inging  fortii  much  finit  I  W'h.it  benntiful 
sket<*lies  tbei-e  are  of  .Mr.  Kehle  mimI  (  h.iile>-I  It 
.seems  to  me  the  real  portrait  of  .Mr.  Kehle. 

'Thos(?  hitters  between  "  .lemini.i  "  .ukI  1.  II  .\. 
are  most  I  shoidd  s.iy  interesting,  hut  tli.il  I  he 
word  lias  been  spoilt.  It  is  alt  oget  her  a  uonder- 
fiil  hook.  I  --till  think  that  p.iticncc  \\as  wanting, 
but,  partly  Irom  the  not  h;i\ing  grown  up  in  tin- 
love  of  tlie  Mot  her  ( 'hin«h.' 

♦  Iliiitnnj  ofthr  Oxford  MovrmnU. 

13 


194  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE; 

We  are  reaching  the  end  noAv.  Miss  Yoiige  was 
happy  and  full  of  interest,  and  devoted  to  her  work 
nnd  her  tonohing  of  the  Otterbourne  children. 

One  old  f riencl  aftci'  another  passed  away,  and  she 
was  left  almost  the  only  one  of  her  generation. 
Miss  Dyson  and  Miss  Barnett  were  gone.  She  wrote 
of  the  approaching  death  of  Miss  Bigg- Wither,  one 
of  her  earliest  friends  : 

'  My  dear  Mrs.  Norsworthy, 

'  I  must  write  a  fe^v  lines  to  thank  you  for 
your  account  of  my  dear  old  friend,  who,  I  feel, 
is  lying  in  the  land  of  Beulah,  though  broken  by 
these  times  of  distress.  It  was  something  the 
same  with  good  old  Judge  Patteson,  father  of  the 
Bishop.  He  had  a  throat  complaint  that  he  knew 
must  bring  final  choking.  And  when  it  had  very 
nearly  come,  as  he  revived,  he  said,  "  The  beautiful 
angel  is  gone,  but  he  will  soon  come  again  !"  I  am 
very  glad  you  can  be  constantly  with  her.  .  .  . 
With  much  love  to  my  dear  M.  A. 

'  Yours  very  sincerely, 

'  C.  M.  YONGE.' 

Miss  Yonge  ^vas  spared  all  gradual  decay ;  she  lay 
down  one  spring  afternoon,  just  as  the  daffodils 
she  loved  so  well  were  coming  into  bloom,  and  she 
passed  away  after  her  last  Communion,  on  the  Eve 
of  the  Annunciation,  1901. 

She  lies  in  Otterboui-ne  Churchyard,  and  we  who 
loved  her  and  who  realize  how  bravely,  how  cheer- 
fully she  had  worked,  and  striven,  and  borne  dis- 
appointments, perplexities,  bereavements — we  who. 


2_ 

fi^^ 

^M 

^'•'%'i;'' 

^^ 

i' 

"  •*^^ff**^*i 

EVa, 

JQ 

^^^^^^^B^*-  '.'"..    ...  -,     *.'>.3>j^^^^^^^B 

THK  GKAVE  OF  CHAKLOTTE  MAKY  YONGK. 

7'f/«te  ^gt  194. 


LATER  YEARS  195 

even  though  we  cannot  now  see  truth  exactly  as 
she  saw  it,  yet  know  that  to  her  we  owe  love  jui^ 
gratitude  for  the  ideal  she  held  up,  the  hopes  she 
inspired,  the  love  she  kindled — feel  Otterbourne  is 
for  evei"  to  us  a  hallowed  spot. 


Requiem  ceterncnn  dona  ei,  Doinine,  et  lux  ferpetua 
luceat  ei. 


13—2 


THE  SECRET  OF  MISS  YONGE'S  INFLUENCE 

There  are  comijaratively  few  women  now  surviv- 
ing who  can  speak  from  personal  experience  of  the 
influence  exercised  over  their  young  days  by  Char- 
lotte Yonge's  books.  Nor  can  I  entirely  come  my- 
self under  that  category,  inasmuch  as,  having  been 
cradled,  so  to  speak,  in  the  arms  of  the  Oxford 
Movement,  I  can  hardly  specify  ^vhich  one  out  of  the 
many  influences  surrounding  my  childhood  spoke  to 
me  most  powerfully. 

Not  much  in  the  way  of  '  High  Church '  doctrine 
was  ever  definitely  taught  to  us  as  children  byword 
of  mouth,  but  the  utmost  care  was  taken  as  to  the 
choice  of  our  books  and  hj  nms.  The  quaint  doggerel 
to  "which  Watts  thought  it  necessary  to  stoop  when 
writing  for  children,  the  dismal  Calvinism  of  The 
Fairchild  Family,  the  irreverent  familiarity  of  the 
Peep  of  Day  and  Line  ujjon  Line,  were  unknown  in 
our  nursery  and  schoolroom.  Our  earliest  '  Bible 
book'  was  one  containing  the  history  of  the  Fall 
and  the  Gospel  story  in  the  words  of  Scripture, 
compiled  by  Bishop  Samuel  Wilberforce ;  and  we 
were  bi-ought  up  upon  his  allegories  and  those  of 
Adams  and  Monro ;  upon  Mrs.  Alexander's  hymns — 
as  devout,  spiritual,  and  tender  as  they  are  dog- 
matic ;  upon  the  Christian  Year,  Neale's  stories 
of  saints  and  martyrs,  Paget's  Tales  of  the  Villar/e 
Childien;  and,  among  other  beloved  books,  Ivo 
and  Verena  and  The  Birthday.  I  am  glad  to  say, 
however,  that  Pilgrims  Progress,  unabridged  and 

196 


SECRET  OF  MISS  YOXGES  INFLUENCE    197 

delightfully     illustrated,     was    among     our    groat 
favourites. 

But  while  conscious  that  all  these  had  I  heir 
marked  effect,  I  should  certainly  place  in  the  first 
rank  of  ])ooks  that  influenced  my  girlhood  Miss 
Sewell's  and  Miss  Yonge's.  I  place  them  in  this 
order,  not  as  their  order  of  merit,  but  because  we 
began  with  Laiicton  PavsoniKjc  and  Amy  Ilerhcit, 
Avhich,  I  tliink,  appeared  before  Miss  Yonge's  stories 
for  children.  We  first  made  acciuaintancc  w  itli  Miss 
Yonge  in  the  pages  of  the  Mout/ilij  Pdckcf,  which  set 
out  uj)on  its  long  and  useful  career  in  1851. 

This  periodical,  editCMl  by  Miss  Yonge,  and  es- 
j)ecially  intciidcd  for  girls  of  schooh'oom  age  'and 
after,'  supplied  a  gi*eat  need,  and  must  have  played 
a  great  part  in  awakening  and  fostering  ( 'hui<li  feel- 
ing and  principles  among  young  penplc.  In  our 
large  family  it  was  faii'ly  r<'ad  to  piiices. 

Old  -  fashioned  Sunday  hal)its  reigiu'd  in  our 
home,  relieved,  however,  tri'in  the  gloom  of  r;irlier 
times  by  sj)ecial  joys  and  little  iiidulgi'uees  whirli 
made  Suiida\-  the  happiest  day  <>f  the  week.  In 
tin;  niattei-  of  leading,  our  ruh's  \\eie  strict. 
I^leasaiit  ami  interesting  'Sundny  hooks'  \\c  always 
had,  b»it  the\-  were  difTei-ent  from  our  w<'ek-day 
ones.  Novels  and  fairy  tales,  and  e\eii  Dickens's 
Christmas  stories,  wei-e  forbidden.  Ihil  whatever 
wa.H  <'ontaine«l  in  the  Mnnf/i/i/  I'urLiI  wjis  always 
permitted,  and  it  was  a  happy  hunt  ing  -  groun<l 
ind<!ed,  for  girU  and  l»o\  s  alike,  on  Sundays. 

Miss  ^'«)ng«'"s  .stories  w«'re  its  crowning  at  t  ract  i<»n. 
Thi'  Liftir  J)ukr,  7'fii  LtniiiH  (»f  /.i/inrntH/.  I'/ir  ('il(fr(f 
/jiort,  f^nvv,  uh  vi\id  piitme',  of  i-arly  Norman  and 
I'ritish    historv.    holh    ii\il   ;ind    ecflesiast  ical       7'/*c 


198  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

Pigeon  Pie  awoke  fervent  cavalier  sentiment,  and, 
indeed,  but  for  counteracting  influences,  would 
have  made  us  firm  believers  in  the  Divine  right  of 
kings. 

Then  began  the  series  of  longer  stories  which 
took  our  whole  generation  by  storm,  and  which  I 
would  fain  believe  will  never  die.  Certain  it  is  that 
they  are  still  read  and  beloved,  even  in  these  de- 
generate days  of  unwholesome  literature. 

The  Daisy  Chain  was  the  first  that  came  out  in 
the  Monthly  Packet,  but  The  Heir  of  Redely ffe  and 
Heartsease  occupy  special  thrones  in  my  memory, 
inasmuch  as  they  were  the  first  modern  novels  that 
I  w^as  allowed  to  read. 

It  has  often  been  said  that  these  novels  inculcated 
Church  principles.  But  it  is  to  be  noted  that  they 
do  not  do  this  anything  like  as  directly  as  do  Miss 
Sewell's  stories.  Miss  Yonge's  novels  awake  and 
commend  Church  principles  far  more  by  what  they 
assume  and  imply  than  by  what  they  preach.  No 
doubt  they  make  us  acquainted  with  perhaps  a 
Utopian  number  of  excellent  clergy  and  of  '  High 
Church '  laymen.  But  these  characters  win  our 
heai-ts,  not  by  or  what  they  '  inculcate,'  but  by  their 
livingness.  Miss  Yonge  surely  has  few  rivals  in 
this  particular  gift.  Her  people  are  never  puppets. 
The  eleven  Mays,  the  thirteen  Underwoods — each 
and  all  stand  out  as  distinct  and  most  living  indi- 
viduals. We  know  their  family  likenesses  and 
diversities ;  their  several  faults,  idiosyncrasies,  and 
merits ;  their  charm,  their  provokingness,  their 
humour  or  their  want  of  it — in  short,  they  become 
as  living  people  to  us.  We  find  even  the  disagree- 
able ones  interesting,  while  the  lovable  ones  become 


SECRET  OF  MISS  YOXGE'S  INFLUENCE    109 

lifelong  friends.  Thus,  as  with  real  people,  we  take 
them  with  their  atmosphere,  and  Miss  Yonge's  at- 
mosphere being  saturated  ^vith  Church  convictions, 
her  readers,  half  unconsciously,  iml)ibe  them. 

Except  for  certain  allusicjiis  to  parish  work  and 
other  religious  undertakings,  and  to  the  Holy  Com- 
munion, it  would  be  difficult  to  find  in  The  Heir  of 
Rt'dchiffe  any  distinctively  '  High  Church  '  teaching. 
In  Ili'drt.scdsr  there  is  still  less,  and  yet  this  same 
atmosphere  is  immistakabl\-  jireseiit. 

The  episode  of  Cocksnioor  in  J'/ir  Dnisij  Clutin 
bnngs  before  us  with  great  skilfulness  and  power 
the  splendid  work  done  for  schools  in  the  villages, 
when  s«'par;itiiig  religion  froin  ('ducation  was  so  far 
from  being  dr<*amt  oi  that  icligioii  was  the  inspiring 
force  of  all  that  was  undeitakeii.  and  t  he  chief  thing 
tJiught,  while  the  Churcji  was  the  acknowledged 
foster-mot liei-  (»f  all  the  children. 

I  cannot  but  believe  that  iiiaiiy  a  real  ( '<  >(k-<iiiooi' 
ha.s  been  take!)  in  hand  tiiidt-r  the  inlliieiicc  of  'I'ln- 
/)<iisif  C/imii. 

There  is  a  more  distiii<t  (Iniicli  note  st  luck  in 
T/w  }'(niii(/  Sfrjnmtthrr  and  seveial  of  the  later 
novels;  but,  at  the  same  t  ime.  t  he  aut  hor  has  sulli- 
eient  gifts  of  huuiourand  disceri'.m<»nt  to  bring  out 
with  ailiiiirable  point  notably  in  7'Ac  I*ill<iis  of  f/ir 
HouMf  the  we/ik  side  of  'High"  ( "liunliniansjiip 
when  tnintf'd  with  e\t  eniali'-ni  or  with  spirit  11,1  j 
pride  and  naiMowness. 

Indi'ed,  while  MisH  Yonge  is  .liliW.i  ,it  .ly  Mind  iif 
on<i  eye  /is  to  Fving  Chai'les  !..  politi<s,  WonieuH 
Uights,  fashions  in  dress,  old-fashioned  proprieties, 
and  other  Pearly  Victorian  opinions,  it  is  strikitig  to 
observe  in  her  1/iter  books  a  br<iadej*  t(»lerati(tn   in 


200  CHARLOTTE  MARY  YONGE 

matters  of  religion  tliaii  we  meet  with  in  her  first 
stoi-ies,  although  her  own  convictions  remain  un- 
changed. 

During  some  consecutive  years  Miss  Yonge  pub- 
lished in  the  Monthhj  Packet  a  really  valuable  series 
of  Conversations  on  the  Catechism,  which  ought  not 
to  have  been  allowed  to  go  out  of  pi-int.  It  forms 
an  excellent  handbook  of  Anglican  theology,  and 
shows  wide  reading  and  much  knowledge.  Taking 
it  up  again  in  my  old  age,  I  have  been  struck  by  the 
degree  to  wdiich  it  forms  the  basis  of  my  own  reli- 
gious thought. 

In  the  novel  which  I  unhesitatingly  place  highest 
among  Miss  Yonge's  works,  The  Chaplet  of  Pearls, 
we  find,  among  many  other  merits  (it  is  the  only 
one  that  has  a  good  i)lot),  an  admirable  grasp  of 
the  Catholic  and  Huguenot  positions,  and  scru- 
pulous justice,  nay — more,  sympathetic  apprecia- 
tion— accorded  to  each  side.  The  via  media  of  the 
English  Church  is  drawn  out  in  vivid  and  favour- 
able contrast  to  the  violent  extremes  of  religious 
factions  in  France  during  the  terrible  times  of 
Catherine  de  Medici. 

There  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  writings  of  Char- 
lotte Yonge  have  inspii-ed  more  than  two  genei-a- 
tions  of  readers  with  enthusiastic  belief  in  the  truth 
and  office  of  the  Church  of  England,  and  in  its  his- 
toric continuity  with  the  Church  of  Augustine  and 
Anselm. 

LUCY  C.  F.  CAVENDISH. 


BILLING   AND  SONS,    LTD.,    PRINTERS,    OUILDKOKD 


NOV  2  J.  1379 

DATE  DUE 

CAVLORD 

PHINTCO  IN  U.S.A. 

PR5913  R6 

Romanes,  Ethel  (Duncan) 

Charlotte  Mary  Yonge. 


yC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


if'flllll 


m\ 


AA    000  614  992    6 


210  00197  7345 


